


Science, Solution

by appalachian_fireflies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Depression, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, M/M, Mind Rape, Recovery, Sirius Black Lives, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, True love conquers all etc, but hey on the bright side, trial drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-08-23 07:51:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8319802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appalachian_fireflies/pseuds/appalachian_fireflies
Summary: Sirius survives the fight at the Ministry of Magic, but Remus is captured and presumed dead.  Four years later, and two years after the fall of Voldemort, Remus is found.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a series of three books on werewolves Copperbadge mentioned in one of his Lupin Stories drabbles: "Myth, Science, and Solution"
> 
> Feel free to message me with any questions as to content before you proceed; there is a fair amount of dark content, but I promise I won't let everything end awfully: [tumblr ask box](http://bookish-but-corruptible.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> I frequently write with speech to text software to avoid dislocating my fingers (yes, really). Please let me know if you find any egregious typos and forgive me my trespasses.
> 
> Speed written, unedited

“Sirius Black,” a high, strained voice crackles in the next room over, and Sirius jumps. He pulls his wand from his robes; constant vigilance in the ancestral home, as always. 

“Are you there? Oh, oh bollocks,” says the voice from the sitting room fire pit, and Sirius relaxes. 

“Minerva,” he smiles, “to what do I owe the pleasure of you using such foul language in my fire?” He can’t recall a single time he heard Minerva McGonagall swear, in all his years of knowing her. 

It’s difficult to tell, given the diffuse nature of the embers, but he is fairly sure Minerva does not smile back. “Mr. Black,” she says quickly, “I need you to come meet me at Mungo’s at once.” 

Half-constructed protests of how he needs to feed Kreacher before returning to his flat vanish at once. This Minerva is a woman he hasn’t seen for the past two years, not since Voldemort’s fall. This is business. 

“Trouble with cleanup?” he clarifies, getting out the floo powder from the mantle. The Order now has one purpose- to clean up the detritus Voldemort and his followers left behind, hidden and festering. 

“No. I-I think you’d better come here,” she concludes, and the embers go dim and cold. 

Sirius throws the powder into the grate, and steps forward. 

*

Minerva shepherds him down halls, narrow and winding. He steps out of the way of a wheelchair, and the walls expand to a comfortable width, then snap back like a rubber band. 

“I’m so very sorry,” she starts. “I only just found out. I would never have kept this from you.”

Sirius flashes a grin at one of the nurses, who had gone pale when she recognized him. No number of glowing exonerations of the unjustly prisoned war hero would entirely erase that mug shot of him screaming. 

“Minerva,” he catches her arm. “If I’m to be running-“ 

“No, no, I’m sorry.” She pauses in the doorway of an empty room. “Had you heard of the raid on Fulvius Gaunt?” 

“No, I hadn’t. Should I?” He would ask her to be clearer, but she has adopted her lecture voice. This is going somewhere. 

“A raid of Gaunt’s residence was conducted five days ago. The Ministry has kept an eye on him for years-

“And they ought to, seeing as the Gaunts are even madder than my family.” He pauses, searching down the pure blood trees his mother made him memorize, a hex for each name he failed to remember. It was an effective method of instruction. “Fulvius Gaunt,” he snaps his fingers. “The Carver.” 

“Yes,” Minerva looks ill. “He was known by that name, during the first war. Only kept him in Azkaban a month or two due to lack of testimony or evidence. He was a secretive man.” She looks away towards a monitor orb, gently pulsing a neutral blue. “You may remember him also from a series of manuals on werewolves. Myth, Science, and-“ 

“Solution,” Sirius finishes grimly. “Lovely bloke.” 

“Yes. Sirius,” she reaches out and grasps one of his hands in both of her small, soft ones. “Remus is alive.” 

Sirius looks through her, past her, to the monitor orb in the empty room. “No,” he says softly. “No, we had Greyback’s testimony. His pack tore him to shreds.” He looked wildly back to her, focusing on her face, soft and pitying. “It’s been years, Minerva. He’s dead,” his voice wavers. 

“The raid found Remus Lupin locked in Gaunt’s dungeons, and the buried remains of several other test subjects on the premises,” she continues gently. “It appears he was conducting experiments on dark creatures. He had a… fascination, with the means by which they channel magic.”

Sirius can’t breathe. The room seems odd, even Minerva hovering in front of him seems unreal. He chokes in a breath, and Minerva ushers him to the room’s empty cot. 

“There, lad. Take a breath,” she squeezes his shoulder. 

“Are you sure?” he manages finally. 

She nods, certain of the facts in front of her. “The appropriate tests have been run. No polyjuice. Even tested for skinwalkers. Mungos took an abundance of caution.”

The monitor orb pulses on calmly, drawing Sirius back to the room. “But Greyback’s testimony-“ 

“Administered under Veritaserum,” McGonagall agrees. “Greyback did, in fact, have Remus for a short while, and enacted vengeance upon him. He was left alive at the request of Voldemort himself, a, a gift, to Gaunt. Voldemort had an interest in Gaunt’s research. Particularly, how it could allow him to harness the kind of magic that lives in the blood of creatures he detested.” 

“He’s alive?” Sirius looks up at her, and she nods. 

“Aye. He’s in very poor condition, physically, but nothing the healers say he can’t recover from and live with. But, Sirius,” she keeps her hand on his shoulder, “you should be prepared. I wouldn't have recognized him had they not told me who he was. And he hasn’t spoken since they found him.” 

Sirius curls in on himself; he wants to pull his knees up and press into them, to feel solid as the world around him shifts frame. “Spell damage? Brain damage?” 

Minerva shakes her head. “No, none that they’ve found. They believe it’s a sort of self-induced catatonia. They’ve had to resort to alternate methods of feeding him.”

“Are they sure?” Sirius presses. 

“Shacklebolt and Severus should be coming along shortly to verify. But I don’t believe they will find anything. The Aurors have run Prior Incantanto as far as they could find any trace of spells, and mostly found Petrificus Totalus, and other," she pauses to consider her words, "spells along that line. They found one Imperius, one Legilimens.”

“Four years,” Sirius says numbly. “He waited, and we didn’t even look for him. I left him to a fate worse than death.” 

“Lad,” Minerva says sharply, “we left you for twelve years in Azkaban. Be as strong now as I know you to be.” 

He nods, mentally shaking himself, and she leans down to give him a brisk hug. 

“Chin up,” she tells him, giving him a hand up. “Our first order of business is to get him to respond. He may react to a more familiar face. After we’ve accomplished that we will consider nutrition.” 

Sirius smiles, hollow. “Consider each battle to be won, not the larger war, eh?”

“Correct,” she nods, and he stands to follow her out of the room, quick even as dread makes him sluggish. 

*

Sirius puts his hand on the door, and Minerva places her own over his. “Deep breath,” she instructs, and they turn the handle together. 

_It’s difficult to slay a werewolf by normal human means,_ Sirius remembers burning choice pages of the book like it was yesterday. _Fortunately, there are several solutions, many more satisfying than your garden variety aconite or silver bullets_. 

Sirius freezes a few feet from Remus’ bedside, and Minerva guides him into a chair to be level with Remus’ still form. _Starvation. It is nearly impossible to starve a werewolf, though with enough time any body will succumb to a complete lack of nutrition. Water and occasional meals would ensure the beast’s survival for months and even years._

Sirius leans forward, watches Remus’ eyes flicker unseeing over nothing, never fixing in one spot for long. His face is gaunt to a frightening degree; a monster to scare naughty children, eyes fever-bright in the hollows of his skull. His head is shaved and scarred, one ropy scar extending past his hairline and over his ear. His chest moves with an eerily slow and steady rhythm under the thin hospital sheets. He finds Remus’ hand under the covers and gently takes it in his, feeling the too-smooth patches of new scars. 

“Moony,” Sirius chokes out, barely recognizing his own voice. 

Remus’ eyes dart to his, all at once sharp and attentive, and Sirius wants to look away from that awful gaze, but does not. 

Remus smiles, one side of his mouth responding just slightly faster than the other. Sirius has known this face for years, memorized it, loved it. He knows every slight difference others would miss. Already it is replacing the face he remembers, and he wants to reach hard and pull his Remus back, and hates himself for it. 

“Hello,” Sirius says softly, squeezing his hand. 

“I thought you’d gone for good, this time.” Remus looks around the room, taking it in for the first time. “Ah,” he rasps, like he’s found the solution to a particularly complicated problem. “I thought I’d moved. Hadn’t realized how far.” He goes silent for a long few moments. 

“You’re at St. Mungos,” Sirius supplies. “They’ve had you near a week now.” 

Remus smiles, lets out a soft huff of breath. The smile stretches his skin in odd ways, like a macabre mask. “I’d gathered,” he says dryly, and Sirius’ heart clenches. 

“I’d hoped for better, but, well,” Remus looks at him. “As much as I deserve, is that how it works? If you’re here, I must’ve avoided Hell.” 

“Remus,” Sirius’ brow furrows, though he tries for a light tone. “What are you on about?”

“I’m dead,” Remus smiles beatifically, even through the pale skin and cracked lips. He squeezes Sirius’ hand back with so little strength he barely feels it. “You’ve no idea how sorry I am it took me so long.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I had hoped that my incorporeal form wouldn’t be limited to my final state,” Remus joked with a good-natured rasp, “but it turns out I ought to have learned from Nearly Headless Nick.”

Sirius looked over to Minerva for help, but she had quietly left the room. 

“I haven’t seen myself for… quite some time, but I’m sure I look a fright,” Remus continued. The more he spoke, the more difficult the words seemed. Sirius picked up a small aluminum cup of water, whispered an incantation, took a sip, then handed it to Remus. It had become a habit of his, when they were in a hospital. 

Remus smiled knowingly at the gesture, and Sirius rescued the shaking cup from Remus’ hands. 

“They can’t poison me in the afterlife, love,” Remus reminded him. 

Sirius shook his head. “You’re not dead,” he said bluntly. He’d never been good at tact. “I’d think the starvation alone’d make you feel enough like shit to know you’re alive.” 

Remus looked down at his body, as if trying to find an answer for Sirius, then froze. He looked around wildly at the walls, and the monitor orb began to flash an angry red. His breathing didn’t quicken; he didn’t move to escape. His eyes simply darted back and forth, and the dry humor was replaced with an unnatural stillness. 

“I’m still here,” Remus whispered with a quiet dread that made the hairs on the back of Sirius' neck stand up. Remus suddenly looked over to Sirius, gaze direct. He didn’t say anything, just stared quietly. 

The door opened, and only Sirius turned in surprise. 

Severus Snape looked down his nose at both of them, and Sirius felt an all too familiar expression of contempt cross his face. 

“Black,” Severus greeted idly, “rush in to muck things up as usual?” 

“Snape,” Sirius crossed his arms, “still a smarmy git with nothing to contribute, I see.” 

Severus smiled, a genuine thin line that crinkled just slightly at the corners of his eyes. He held out a hand. 

Sirius shook it. They both turned to Remus, whose vacant expression had gained a small furrow in the space between his brows. 

“Remus said he thinks he’s dead, but when I told him he wasn’t,” Sirius gestured, lost. "He was talking, for a bit. Clear, ok." 

Severus strode into Sirius’ space, leaning over Remus’ bed. He snapped his fingers suddenly, and Sirius flinched. Remus did not. 

“Yes,” Severus said to himself, satisfied. He took out his wand, and turned to Sirius. “Do you trust me, Black?” 

Sirius nodded hesitantly. “What-?”

“I’m going to attempt Legilimens, and I want to ensure you aren’t going to punch me,” Snape responded drily. 

“They’ve already tried that,” Sirius argued. “They had to’ve.”

Snape shook his head. “Headmistress McGonagall showed me his records. They have not. A competent Occlumency master is rare, and Lupin is not a high priority case.” 

Sirius sighed wearily, and nodded. “Don’t hurt him,” he warned. 

“Ah, the territorial pangs of True Love,” Severus said without inflection, and raised his wand. “Legilimens.” 

*

The first thing Severus sensed was an emptiness, water drained from a tub to leave the basin cold and slick, without purchase. It disturbed him more than he was willing to admit. Then, he sensed a gentle confusion, directed towards himself. He moved towards it. 

“Lupin,” he said aloud, knowing that Sirius would also hear him. “Ah,” he said, feeling the confusion sharpen at his own thought. “You are surprised we are speaking to one another.” 

He shared a memory, as if they were outsiders watching a muggle film. “I was bitten by Lord Voldemort’s serpent, Nagini. Many times over. I had, of course, prepared for this eventuality,” he continued. “I am not a fool. I had seen many die by the serpent’s venom, and prepared an antidote. I was not, however, prepared for how fully the physical wounds of such a brutal attack might overwhelm me. I was only able to consume a small portion of the antidote before it fell from my fingers, and the vessel that contained it shattered. I barely maintained consciousness through blood loss alone when Harry came to visit me for a memory.” He paused. “Someone else may speak to you about it. After, when I lay dying, Black came upon my body, having followed Potter there.” 

“I was not in my right mind at the moment, and must have babbled about the Potter boy and the Dark Lord. Whatever it was, Sirius came to believe that I was innocent of serving the Dark Lord, as he had been. He chose to take precious moments to halt the blood loss and pull the potion from the floor. He restarted my heart when it stopped.” Severus paused. “He is still an arrogant prick, but I owe him my life. I consider his debt for the previous attempt on my life repaid.” 

Lupin’s consciousness rose steadily during the course of the story, until it flared to alertness all around him. 

“Hello,” Severus greeted, and opened his eyes. Lupin was staring back into them, curious. 

“You’re dead,” Lupin said warily. 

Severus huffed. “I did not go through that whole tale to be ignored!” _Do you not feel the presence of my mind? Could Gaunt create an entire consciousness, even through Occlumency?”_

Lupin looked away. “Gaunt told me no one was coming for me. I didn’t believe him, for a long time. Then he said that Voldemort had won, and no one was left alive to come. I believed him.”

“Remus,” Sirius started thickly. 

“We believed you to be dead,” Severus cut him off. “Greyback was questioned under Veritaserum that I brewed myself. It turns out our questions had not been precise enough, and for that I… I do apologize. I failed my duty.” 

Remus curled in on himself at the words, the wash of sincerity through their mental link. The monitor orb dulled to a gentle yellow. 

“You knew you weren’t with Gaunt, when you saw me. Why?” Sirius asked gently. 

Severus withdrew from Remus’ mind. “You were one of the best students in our year, despite your incompetence in brewing potions. You must have had some way to separate Gaunt’s machinations from reality.” 

Remus nodded. “I had nightmares, when I was younger. Of biting people, infecting them. Killing someone. Changing when the moon wasn’t full. In the back of my mind, there was always a small voice, telling me… this is a dream. And I’d ask myself if I were dreaming, and one of the characters in the dream would tell me no, but I would know. When you wake up, reality is… incontrovertible.” 

Severus nodded approvingly. “And now?”

Remus clenched the rough blankets in his hands, rubbed them roughly over the skin of his palms. “Gaunt would not have told me S-, you never looked for me. He knew I would never believe it.” 

Sirius made a soft, pained noise. Severus opened his mouth to speak, and the door swung open sharply. Remus froze. A nurse stood hesitantly in the door, covered in protective garb from head to toe, a mask covering her face. 

Sirius had not fully registered the monitor orb going off minutes ago. Severus, thankfully, had possession of his faculties and gently ushered the nurse back outside. 

The room was quiet, for a moment. He could hear Remus’ shaky breaths in the echo chamber that was the room between the magically silenced walls, the soft shift of his feet under the blankets when he stretched. 

“Well, that was certainly a good dose of reality,” Remus smiled wearily at the door. “I haven’t seen someone that terrified of lycanthropy in years. Refreshing.” 

“Remus,” Sirius swallowed, took a steadying breath. “Had I known, there would have been nothing that could have stopped me from searching every dark corner for any sign of you.”

Remus shook his head. “Melodrama. It was owed me. I left you in Azkaban for twelve years, and I knew exactly where you were." He looked down at his hands, studying them as if surprised to find what they were doing. "How long, have I-?”

“Four years,” Sirius answered heavily. 

“And you and Severus are alive,” Remus looked back to the door. “Did I see Minerva?” 

“Yes,” Sirius confirmed, relieved. 

“But Albus hasn’t come? I suppose he’s busy,” Remus covered the question quickly. 

Sirius shook his head. “Dead,” he said, and an expression of utter horror crossed Remus’ usual carefully polite expression. Sirius held up a hand. 

“Voldemort is dead. Harry killed him.” 

“Harry-“ Remus’ thumb absently rubbed its way through the threadbare bedsheet. 

“He’s alive,” Sirius smiled. This, at least, was something he could offer. Safety, home, family. As Remus had done his best for him only six years ago. “We won.” 

“Voldemort is dead? For good?” Remus asked him, eyes wide like a child in his pale face. 

“For good,” Sirius confirmed. 

“And Harry- he’s ok?” 

“He married Ginny Weasley a year ago,” Sirius grinned. “They’re expecting their first sprog in six months.” 

“Oh my god,” Remus smiled back at him, one of his genuine smiles that Sirius took like a punch to the gut every time he saw one. Remus shook a little, and started laughing. Sirius forgot, for a moment, the hollows of his face, the obvious signs of cruelty and deprivation. 

“Yeah,” Sirius agreed, and a few tears made their way down Remus’ face as he shook. 

“Shh,” Sirius said gently, wrapping an arm carefully around Remus’ sharp shoulders. He sat up on the bed, and Remus leaned against him, letting his cheek fall to Sirius’ chest. “It’s over, love,” Sirius murmured, hoping like hell it was true, and that Remus could believe it. 

Soon, there would be hard truths, conversations about how they could struggle forward from here. For now, Sirius cradled Remus against his chest and rocked gently back and forth until the shaking slowed. 

*

Remus had fallen into an exhausted sleep; his body couldn’t physically handle much excitement, the nurse had reported distastefully. Sirius was fairly certain it had only been threats from Minerva that kept the nurse from referring to Remus as a beast or Dark Creature or simply The Werewolf. Remus would have rolled his eyes at Sirius’ outrage and told him these were all technically true. 

“We need to get him out of here,” Sirius muttered darkly as the nurse left. 

Minerva pursed her lips while Severus stood like a shadow beyond the flickering candle illuminating the hall. 

“The summer holidays have just begun,” Severus stated. “There are no children currently inhabiting Hogwarts.” 

Minerva nodded. “That’ll be it, then. Frankly, if there were children at the castle and someone kicked up a fuss, I wouldn’t mind the sodding owls. Our world owes Mr. Lupin more than it will ever know.” She paused. “Though I do believe I will do my best to educate them.” 

“Yes, Headmistress,” Sirius nodded respectfully, a twinkle in his eye. 

“Oh, you,” she tutted wearily. “Severus, please alert Poppy that we will be arriving shortly and inform her of the situation.” 

“Yes, Headmistress,” Severus replied in a tone distinctly different from Black’s, who waggled his eyebrows at him. Severus sighed, and apparated on the spot. 

Sirius blinked. “Doesn’t Mungo’s have-“ 

“Yes." Minerva carefully gathered Remus’ records from where they hovered beside her in the hallway. “I believe the old rivalries may never end.” 

“He was trying to impress me,” Sirius crowed. 

“Children,” Minerva ran a hand across her face. 

“Don’t worry,” Sirius looped an arm in hers, “As soon as we get back to Hogawarts, I’ll nab you some firewhiskey from that old cabinet in the kitchens."

“The age-restricted cabinet, behind a concealment charm, in the kitchens which no students were allowed to enter?” Minerva raised an eyebrow. 

“You loved me,” Sirius countered, and she sighed.


	3. Chapter 3

They couldn’t apparate directly into the castle, so Remus floated along easily in a charmed chair over the grounds. He blinked rapidly at the change in lighting, then stared openly at the grounds as they went past. He looked up at the approaching castle like a first year, wonder and awe and a kind of newness that Sirius realized he rarely associated with Remus. 

Remus leaned up out of his chair when they approached the lake, taking a few slow steps to sit at the lakeside for a moment, to run his hand through the rippling water and watch it fall through his fingers. Suddenly, he dug his fingers into the sandy soil, then slowly pulled them away and rubbed his hands together to clean them. He stood, sank back down into the chair hovering by his side, and gave Sirius and Minerva an apologetic smile. Sirius realized, though it had only been about a minute or two, that he and Minerva had stood frozen, watching. 

The portraits gossiped amongst each other when they entered, Minerva leading with all the command she could muster, which was considerable. The gossip dulled to whispers. Remus barely blinked, he was staring so intently at every detail. 

Poppy Pomfrey greeted them at the door to the infirmary, then shut it firmly behind her. They hadn’t seen another living soul on their way; Sirius hadn’t realized how quiet the castle was in the summer. He doubted Remus had, either: from what he understood, Remus had been given an advance just to make it to the Hogwarts Express, and had been sacked before the summer holiday began. 

Poppy had clearly been prepared to see Remus and was chatting with a guiding hand casually on his shoulder like they were simply friends catching up. Her gaze flickered to Sirius when Remus’ back was turned, and she gave Sirius a distraught look. It was so unexpected that all at once he found he couldn’t remain in the infirmary, with its familiar lemon and linen smell. It reminded him of too many dislocated joints, broken bones, the metal smell of blood. Remus had never been happy to be in one of these cots, but he had been safe. Sirius knew he could trust Poppy. 

Sirius was so lost in thought when he hurried out into the corridor that he nearly slammed into Severus, who held out a hand that Sirius promptly barreled into. 

“Oof,” he said to Severus’ glare. 

“Constant vigilance,” Severus said icily. 

Sirius laughed. “Is that what we are now? One of two- three, survivors of our generation, telling war stories?”

“That sentiment presupposes a camaraderie we never shared,” Severus replied. “I am glad Lupin was brought here.”

“You chased him out, last time,” Sirius raised an eyebrow. 

Severus inclined his head. “Yes, Black. The sentiment that I am glad he is currently here is meant to express my change of opinion.” 

“Oh?” Sirius commented, surprised. 

“It was, of course, completely foolish to not have had a method of monitoring for an adult werewolf surrounded by children to ensure he consumed the wolfsbane potion. I have rectified that in the stock I am currently brewing. My potions do not fail; he will be harmless, and I will be sure of it. He will remain in his rooms during the full moon or the headmistress and I will know. There is no true problem to having him here, besides prejudice.” 

“Right, well. Thank you,” Sirius responded, now utterly shocked. 

“I expect him to be here for the next month, at least,” Severus replied simply. “I have a request.”

“I would love to hear it,” Sirius rested his chin on his hand, rapt. The sarcasm made him feel on solid ground again. 

“If any of the faculty seem like they will cause trouble… direct them to me, not Minerva. I will handle them.”

Sirius held out his hand. Severus stared at it like it was a gnome, then clasped it briefly before quickly letting go. 

“Do not disturb me unless you have something that should be brought to my attention. Good day,” Snape finished, and strode away, robes billowing behind him. 

“When did he change?” Sirius wondered aloud, watching him disappear. He felt guilt and a sense of urgency overcome him, and re-entered the infirmary. 

Poppy was plying a shivering Remus with blankets, tutting worriedly. 

“You simply aren’t ready to travel like that,” she scolded, and looked up at Sirius’ arrival. 

_Sorry_ , Sirius thought. _Had to step out for a little panic._

“What’s wrong?” Sirius asked instead, moving to the other side of Remus’ bed. 

“He’s having difficulty with maintaining a stable body temperature,” Poppy muttered a heating charm. “Starvation lends itself to a breakdown of homeostasis, not to mention chronic stress-“

“He’s cold?” Sirius summarizes, as if he isn’t trained in field medicine. 

“This won’t do it,” Poppy puts her hands on her hips. “Remus, dear, let’s get you to the bath. I’ll set it hot, it’ll calm the adrenaline right down.”

“Ok,” Remus chattered, reluctantly leaving the nest of warm blankets. When his bare feet hit the floor, he shook so hard Sirius immediately moved to catch him. 

Poppy was already there, propping him up. “There you go, just a few steps,” she encouraged. 

“S-sorry,” Remus chatters, “to be, in shambles again, in your infirmary. Thought, you’d got rid of me?” 

“You hush yourself,” Poppy scolds. “You were easy to love, dear. I know you recall I cried the day we sent you off into the world, and I’m far more satisfied to have you on my watch.” She sets him on the lip of the tub, and flicks her wand at the faucet, the hot dial turning generously. 

“I can-“ Remus starts. 

“You certainly can not!” Poppy cuts him off. “You’re as likely to warm up as you are to drown, on your own. And might I remind you,” she tugs his shirt over his head, “it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Do you remember that time you got that great bloody hole in your buttock? I still can’t imagine what might have gored you in the shack-“ She pauses. Remus slips off his trousers and underwear as discreetly as he can, and sinks into the water with a hiss. 

“James Potter,” Poppy concludes. “That was James, wasn’t it? The antler of a stag.” 

“Yes,” Remus admitted, flushing. 

Sirius tapped the water with his wand, and bubbles coated the surface. Remus gave him a grateful smile. 

“Poppy, give us a minute?” Sirius asked. 

Poppy gave him a dubious frown. 

“I’ll keep an eye on him, promise. I’m not as short in attention as I used to be.” 

Poppy looked to Remus, then stood. “I’ll be nearby,” she said, and stepped out. 

“She’s probably,” Remus’ body gave a single shiver, “standing by the door.” 

“She know all our secrets anyway,” Sirius cupped soapy water in his hands and ran it over Remus’ scalp, carefully avoiding his closed eyes. He ran his fingers tentatively over the short, soft hair growing in, then more firmly when Remus sighed and relaxed into his hands. 

“You feeling alright there, Moony?” he asked softly. 

Remus huffed a laugh. “I remember, after the first war, when I thought of myself as Moony, heard your voice in my head. And I told myself there was no Moony anymore, that person was dead.” 

“Bollocks,” Sirius huffed. “We’ve had this conversation, remember? And you said you’d loved me even when you’d hated me.”

“I did,” Remus leaned against the back of the tub, slid down to immerse his body in the water with a sigh. The shaking had stopped. “That was why Moony had to be dead. I couldn’t live as two people.” 

Sirius withdrew his fingers and sat silently. He’d learned not to talk over Remus’ thoughts, not when it mattered. 

“I don’t know how I’m feeling. Or that I’m feeling. I don’t-,” he lifted his hand from the water, watched it pour back into the tub. “I keep getting these fleeting feelings of clarity, that I’m here, that I feel what I touch, that I really feel it, not just know that I’m feeling it.” He huffs a frustrated noise. “I can’t, connect it-“ His hand twitched slightly. 

“Shh, love,” Sirius soothed. “You haven’t had a proper rest yet, or eaten well enough. Give yourself time.” 

Remus nodded, but it was a placating nod, and he watched the bubbles in the water, popping then magically reforming themselves. 

“Minute by minute,” Sirius prompted. 

Remus smiled down at the water. “Five minutes more, ten minutes more. An hour, two. A day. A week.” 

“A year,” Sirius finished. 

“Using my words against me,” Remus shook his head. 

“You know I always liked your poetry,” Sirius winked. 

Remus colored. “Oh god. I will never live that down.” 

Poppy knocked on the door. “All right, lads?”

“Fine, Madame Pomfrey!” they chorused, and Remus leaned towards him in his laughter. 

The hot water wore off quickly enough, and Sirius helped Remus out of the tub, plying him immediately with a fluffy towel. 

Remus looked down at his hollowed ribs, the sharp jut of his hipbones. 

“Don’t worry,” Sirius confided. “I looked worse.” It wasn’t true, but that was hardly important. 

Sirius heard a mild commotion outside, and helped Remus into loose trousers and a knit maroon jumper Poppy had provided. 

Remus threw an arm around Sirius’ shoulder, exhausted, and made his way out the door. 

Harry was standing a few feet from the other side, and his face paled in shock as he took Remus in. 

_Bloody fuck_ , Sirius thought. He’d meant to contact Harry himself, to prepare him to see Remus like this. But Harry was wont to make his own way. 

Remus froze, looking similarly distraught to have Harry see him like this. He had, so far, been tolerant of all the attention, but he’d always felt ashamed and uncomfortable to be seen this vulnerable. He’d spent his entire life carefully hiding his illness, and dealing with skepticism from those who could not believe he fell ill as often as he claimed. 

Sirius helped Remus over to the bed, then turned to Harry. “Come on, lad. Let him rest.”

Ginny was speaking to Poppy, who threw up her hands when she saw them. “I tried to stop him charging in,” she apologized to Sirius. “And don’t think I won’t hex you next time, young man!” she scolded Harry. 

“Sirius,” Harry looked at him, lost. Harry was an adult now, there was no denying that. But Sirius was still the only father he had. Sirius made sure the curtain they all were behind kept them from Remus’ sight, and gave Harry a hug. 

“I went to check on the survivor from Gaunt, heard they’d identified him,” Harry said quickly. Of course. Couldn’t hide anything in amongst the ministry workers for long, and certainly not the aurors. 

“He looks half dead,” Harry whispers, at least cognizant that Remus might hear them. 

“He’s alive,” Sirius replied firmly. “That’s all that matters.” Speaking to Harry, in this way, he found that he believed it. He always felt a bit more steady, when he had someone to be steady for. 

Harry leaned in to pull Sirius into another hug, and Ginny stepped in to wrap her thin arms around both of them. Harry sniffed, then pulled away, composing himself quickly. 

Ginny gave Harry a kiss, then resumed talking to Poppy. Harry walked back to Remus’ bed, where Remus had already fallen fast asleep, despite or perhaps because of the excitement. Harry sat quietly down in a chair, and watched Remus breathe for a long time.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry watched Remus toss and turn for a few hours, talking in a low voice to Sirius. It had taken some time after Remus’ apparent death for him to realize that he and Sirius had been together. In Harry’s defense, he still had trouble thinking of him as _Remus_ rather than Professor Lupin. It was still odd for him, to think of it; here they just seemed like friends, joking, barely touching- and maybe that itself should have been a giveaway. Sirius touched everyone; hugs, shoulder squeezes, hair ruffles. For as long as Remus and Sirius had known each other, the careful gulf between them was remarkable. 

Ginny eventually pulled him away to clear his head. She was right, of course, but he couldn’t help but be plagued by the thought that if he walked away, they wouldn’t be there when he came back. He still sometimes contacted Sirius to reassure himself he was there. He would be there. He had a family, and he was keeping them, this time. 

They went for a walk to Hogsmeade, and Ginny wondered aloud what sort of present might cheer Remus up. She steered him towards Gladrags, but he shook his head. 

“This is Remus,” he reminded her. “He’ll take offense. Sirius’ll do him for that.” He shrugged. “Some odd logic about how he should be talking care of me, while it’s ok for Sirius, as long as he pays him back, or something like that.”

“Well,” Ginny placed her hands on her hips and arched her back to stretch it. 

“All right, love?” Harry checked in. He had carefully concealed a growing collection of books on pregnancy, but it was still mostly a mystery to him. 

“Oh, please,” she waved him off. “I’m only thinking.”

Harry continued down the street, and stopped dead in front of Honeydukes. “Here,” he said decisively. 

Chimes rang out when they entered, high and cheery. Ginny looked past a row of lollipops in every color and shape. 

“Are you sure?” she frowned. 

“Oh yes,” Harry took off for the back of the store. 

*

Harry’s entrance into the hospital wing woke Remus. He opened his eyes as if he’d never been asleep, and shuffled upright with a disgruntled noise. Then he swung his legs over the bed and stood. 

Sirius jumped forward to grab him, but Remus pushed him back. 

“I’m fine, I’m just going to the loo,” he complained, but Sirius regrouped. 

“You’re fine?!” he returned incredulously. “Don’t be difficult.”

Remus wrinkled his nose, taking a few shaky steps forward. “I believe we’ve established the wolf isn’t going to let me die, I hardly think-“

“Will the wolf keep you from slipping and breaking your ribs, hmm?” Sirius looped an arm under his shoulders. 

When they’d turned away, Ginny hiding a smile under her hand, Harry spotted it- a dark patch of ink at the base of Remus’ skull. With the way Remus kept his hair a bit shaggy (fashion or the cost of frequent haircuts, Harry wasn’t sure, but had leaned towards the latter) Harry wouldn’t normally have seen it. With his head shaved and the hair there just beginning to grow in, it was impossible to miss. 

They were still arguing when they returned. 

“I have to build up my strength some time,” Remus huffed, sounding a little winded from the effort.

“You are, good god-“ Sirius started. 

“Remus,” Harry cut off, “have you got a tattoo?” 

Remus and Sirius both looked sharply up at him with what Harry had begun to think of as the Parent Face; they were trying to decide how much they should tell him. 

“I don’t mean to pry,” Harry said quickly, “only, I’d just noticed it.” He didn’t like quarreling much, and had found that changing the subject usually helped to de-escalate. He may have miscalculated, in this instance. 

Remus sat down on his bed, and gave Sirius a little wave, _let me tell it._

“It’s a registration tattoo, Harry. I got it when I was seventeen.” 

“Had to get it when you were seventeen,” Sirius muttered darkly, ignoring Remus’ sharp look. “That Umbridge woman liked it a little too much, if you ask me.”

“Sirius was there,” Remus adds dryly. 

“You don’t have to make a joke of it, you know,” Harry told him, and Remus just stared, like he was a little shocked. “It’s horrifying.” 

Remus’ expression softened at that. “I’m sorry, I’d forgotten what she’d done to you. I was so angry when I heard.” 

“That bitch,” Sirius added succinctly, and Remus made a pained expression, but didn’t contradict him. “She’s in Azkaban," Sirius continued angrily, "but it’s not like they’re going to repeal that employment law she wrote anytime soo-“ he froze. 

“Let me guess,” Remus stared at the ceiling. 

“Yeah,” Sirius looked at him, worried. “She tightened the restrictions.”

“Fuck,” Remus said softly, closing his eyes for a minute. 

“Ah,” Harry blurted, “got you a gift, in Hogsmeade.” He shoved the bar of chocolate forward, a note attached to it with string: _For the dementors._

“Hmm?” Remus replied politely, accepting it from him. He smiled a little in surprise when he saw the note. “Very thoughtful of you, Harry, thank you,” he said genuinely. Harry relaxed a bit in relief. 

“Sirius,” Harry got his godfather’s attention. “I thought you might want to go get some things from your flat before I head out.” 

“Right, yes, thanks,” Sirius gave Remus a look which only he could interpret, and returned one in kind. Sirius grabbed a hand towel from Remus’ bedside and transfigured it into a cozy looking hat, then charmed it maroon and gold. He leaned in and slipped it over Remus’ head. It conveniently covered his tattoo. He started to draw away, but Harry stopped him. 

“Don’t deprive him his kiss goodbye on my account,” Harry waggled his eyebrows. 

Sirius gave him an uncomfortable bark of a laugh, but leaned back in to give Remus a quick, chaste kiss on the lips, which Remus accepted after darting an uncomfortable glance at Harry. Harry smiled. 

“Some jumpers, ta,” Remus called after Sirius. 

“Yes, my cabbage,” Sirius shot back over his shoulder, easy as anything. 

Remus wrinkled his nose and opened his mouth to retort, but didn’t manage it before Sirius strode quickly out of view. 

*

Minerva McGonagall replaced the letter on her desk, then swiveled her chair to face the portrait behind her. 

“I ought to tell them now,” she sighed. “That would be the appropriate course of action, yes?”

“It seems you already know the answer,” Albus’ eyes twinkled on the canvas. 

She took a handful of toffee with her; she was beginning to understand Albus’ use of them as a social lubricant. Many serious conversations often fell to her. 

They were both awake, Remus sitting up in bed and Sirius clowning a bit to get a small indulgent smile out of him. Harry and Ginerva had left. 

“Toffee, lads?” she offered. 

Sirius held out a hand, then passed a couple to Remus. He didn’t eat them, just stared cautiously, flicked his eyes to Black and back. 

“What did we do?” Sirius asked, while chewing. Any chance to eschew his lessons in manners. 

Minerva laughed, short. “No, no.” She took a seat next to them. “Gaunt’s trial has been scheduled.”

Sirius’ eyes flickered anxiously to Remus, but Remus was now staring steadily at Minerva. 

“When?” he asked simply. 

“In five months,” she replied. “No one goes to Azkaban anymore without a full trial. They’ve learned their lesson. You've, ah,” she cleared her throat. “You’ve been called to testify.” 

“If I refuse?” Remus asked steadily. 

“They certainly can’t make you,” she replied slowly. “But I think it’s worth considering the implications.”

“They wouldn’t let Gaunt go free!” Sirius returned, incredulous. 

“I don’t imagine so,” Minerva pursed her lips. “There is a small possibility he would be released in a few years. I don't know how much you are aware of the more archaic and barbaric aspects of wizarding law, but-"

"The law allowing magical experimentation on dark and inhuman creatures has never explicitly been repealed," Remus finished for her, sensing her discomfort. "A well-argued case could set precedent for conviction." 

Sirius swore, but didn't break anything. He'd learned by now it didn't help Remus much for him to have a fit, no matter how cathartic. 

“Yes,” Minerva shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve been told that the question is less ‘will Gaunt be convicted’ than the potential legal and political value of your appearance in court.”

“I thought the testimony of a werewolf meant very little,” Remus leads. 

“Indeed. Never in our history has a lycanthrope been asked to present testimony,” Minerva confirmed. “I have to be honest, I was holding the letter from the Ministry for a day, to allow you some rest. Then I received several other letters.” She pulled them from her robes and offered them to Remus, who took them, puzzled. “I hope you don’t mind- I did open them, but only because I did not know the intent of the senders.” 

“Not at all,” Remus unfolded the first, Sirius tugging at another for permission. Remus handed it over absently, scanning his letter. 

“They can’t be serious,” Remus scoffed. 

“I believe they are,” Minerva replied cautiously. 

“They must be young,” Remus laughed, and picked up the next. “It’s a nice thought, but-“

“I don’t know,” Sirius said pensively, exchanging letters. “You haven’t seen the news, Remus. There are a good number of people who believe the wolfsbane potion should be distributed by the Ministry.”

“They are young,” Minerva admits. “But they- I believe they’re changing the opinions of some. It’s a powerful argument, to say it is better to have a harmless werewolf supplied with wolfsbane, an employed one rather than one dangerous on the streets. It’s fear mongering, certainly, but-“

“Fear is a better motivator than, well. Anything else, really,” Remus finishes for her. “That’s it, then? If that is their argument, we might as well all be round up and shot with silver bullets.”

Minerva shakes her head. “That is not their argument. That is how the Daily Prophet has presented it to the wizarding world. The group itself- this is a, a fledgling civil rights movement.”

“Why should they succeed, where others have failed?” Remus asked idly. 

“Hysteria regarding dark creatures has lessened since the fall of Lord Voldemort,” Minerva offered. “And the impact of the wolfsbane potion in the past several years since its debut cannot be underestimated.” 

“So, werewolf children and their allies are passionately,” Remus shuffled the letters, “requesting I testify in the hopes of invalidating discriminatory laws, thereby garnering sympathy for their cause?” 

“Young adults, I would say,” Sirius offered. There were very few werewolf children, as evidenced by the extraordinary circumstances of Remus’ attendance at Hogwarts during all of Dumbledore’s years as headmaster. 

Remus held up a hand. “I need a day to think.” 

“Take your time,” Minerva said kindly. “It’s not a decision to be made lightly.” 

*

Remus had spent the better part of the afternoon quietly staring out his window at the grounds. He either pretended not to hear Sirius speak or smiled vaguely at him. 

Sirius went for a stroll round the castle. It was just as he’d remembered it; he felt an odd sense of déjà vu around each corner, expecting James to jog up behind him and throw an around around his shoulder. He whispered the password to the one-eyed witch, and smiled when she glided open, then after a moment, closed again. 

He sat in the library for a long time, just taking in the dust settling in the sunlight streaming golden through the windows. He thought of a boy sitting in one of the chairs, sober faced. Imagined him looking up to notice Sirius, shake his head and pretend to be annoyed. Sirius would lean on the back two legs on his chair, flip his head back over it, start making faces upside-down. 

“Bad dog,” Remus would whisper with a little smile. 

Madam Pince reshelved a book with a loud thump, breaking the memory. 

Sirius was in a castle full of ghosts. It had once been the only true home he’d known, but now he had no place here. It only served to remind him what he could never have back. 

Back in the infirmary, Remus had fallen fast asleep against the window. 

“He was always like that,” Sirius commented softly to Madame Pomfrey. 

“Aye,” she agreed, sterilizing the gauze she was creating from long strips of cloth. “I imagine it’ll be hardest from here on out. It’s the quiet ones you ought to watch out for.” 

“Don’t I know it,” Sirius mutters darkly. It was just like Remus to repeat old habits. So much could have been avoided if they’d only been honest with one another, all those years ago. If Sirius hadn’t been so hot headed and inconsiderate, Remus so proud and stubborn. If Sirius hadn’t betrayed his trust in sixth year. If-

Well, sod that. 

“Remus,” Sirius shook his shoulder gently. “You’re going to hurt your neck, sleeping like that.”

Remus made a displeased noise and batted his hands away. 

“Levicorpus,” Sirius said simply, and floated Remus over to his bed. 

“Couldn’t you have done that in the first place?” Remus complained hoarsely. “You didn’t have to wake me.” 

“You’d’ve hexed me and you know it,” Sirius replied cheerfully. 

Remus grunted and turned on his side. Sirius surveyed the cot. “Engorgio Latitudo.” 

Sirius yelped. Instead of widening the cot, the charm caused the cot to hex him. He could feel an uncomfortable sensation on his face, spreading like a rash. He ran to the mirror next to Poppy, and saw clusters of white pimples covering his skin. 

Poppy covered a grin with her hand. “Sorry, dear. The beds have some harmless hexes, in case the children get ideas while I’m out. Here,” she rustled through her cabinet, retrieved three small jars and portioned them out into a goblet. 

Sirius downed the goblet, and was relieved, after a moment, to see the pimples vanishing from his face. 

“You’re a clever woman,” he admits grudgingly. “Could I, ah, un-hex one of the beds?” 

Poppy shook her head, gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Even for a boy as clever as you, that would take days.”

It’d been a long time since Sirius had been called a boy; it was odd at times to realize he was only just middle-aged. 

Sirius walked pensively past Remus’ bed, then abruptly transformed into Padfoot, hopping up to lay over Remus’ feet. 

Remus blinked down at him. “Sirius?” He withdrew his feet. “Perhaps it’d be better if you went home for a bit," he said wearily. 

Sirius couldn’t help but feel hurt at that, and wonder if he had a right to be. He hopped back down, trotted over to his own cot, and grasped his pillow gently in his teeth, dragging it to the ground. He nosed the pillow under his bed, and pulled the curtain around it, then trotted into the space he'd made to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

When Sirius woke the next morning, Remus’ bed was empty. He changed from Padfoot to human without even thinking about it, short, sharp breaths loud as he laid a palm on the sheets- cold. 

He circled the infirmary, checked the bathroom and even Pomfrey’s adjoining rooms, but all were empty. He strode to the door, and saw Remus’ empty chair sitting by it. 

He didn’t have time to think, to rationalize; his mind was a wall of panic, and the opposing need to quell it. The small private study room nearby was empty, the storage rooms were locked. He fled a sunlit room filled with herbs, and smacked his shoulder on a painting in the doorway. 

“Good lord!” a wizened man playing gobstones called out from the painting, gathering his fallen stones from the floor. 

“Sorry,” Sirius muttered, hurrying away. That would probably be the most exciting thing that happened to the paining all summer; there couldn’t be much going on with the students away-

He paused, then strode back double time. “Excuse me?” he stopped in from of the old man with the gobstones. 

“Out with it,” the man said, roused from contemplation. “I haven’t got all day.” 

“Yes, of course,” Sirius said. “Only- have you see a man pass you from the infirmary this morning? Bit peaky looking.”

The old man snorted. “When does Lupin not look peaky? He went that way,” the man pointed. 

Sirius blinked. “Thanks.” 

He stepped quickly down the main staircase, automatically stepping over a vanishing stair, even after all these years. 

The stairs exited at the great hall, and Sirius couldn’t help but stare at how large the space was without the house tables dividing it with four broad lines. 

There was one small table near the head with a moderate spread of breakfast foods. It was still fairly early, and the benches around it were not filled. 

Two bodies sat across from each other, one hunched over porridge, the other upright methodically consuming eggs and toast. 

“Remus,” Sirius called in obvious relief. 

Remus turned to him, frowning. His conversation with Minerva had evidently been interrupted. 

“Hallo, Sirius,” Remus replied. “Fancy some breakfast?” 

Sirius felt a bit embarrassed. He’d run around the castle like a loon, and hadn’t even thought to check if Remus had simply gone down to breakfast. A wooden cane lay across the bench by his side. 

At this point of his life, Remus was used to shrugging off any injury that didn’t physically keep him from doing a task. 

Sirius sat beside him, keeping a careful few inches between them. He put together a plate of eggs and sausage, the great room so silent the scrape of his fork rang out. 

“So,” Sirius swallowed awkwardly. “Anything to report?”

“I’ve decided to testify,” Remus replied, offhand. 

Of course. Sirius had almost forgotten. He wanted to do something, to lean over and give Remus’ shoulder a squeeze, to say just the right words to make things easy between them again. Should he congratulate him? Tell him he was sorry about the whole situation?

“Right,” Sirius said. “What’re the next steps?”

“I’m to meet with representatives,” Remus answered. “The Ministry has offered their own, but-“

Sirius waved a hand. “You’ll be using mine, of course. There aren’t any better out there than lawyers the Blacks have on retainer.” 

Remus shook his head. “I don’t feel comfortable asking that of you.”

“Well, you didn’t have to ask, did you?” Sirius replied, annoyed. “What’s mine is yours, remember?”

Remus only shook his head. “I’ll find someone to represent me, or I’ll speak with the Ministry representatives. They will at least want me to win my case.” 

“No,” Sirius said abruptly, setting down a mug of tea with a decisive thud. “No, you don’t get to let me live in your home, clothe me, make sure I eat, do everything in your power to, to keep me from completely losing my goddamn mind in my parent’s home, then not let me care for you in return.” He looked up at Minerva. “Apologies, Headmistress.”

“None needed, Mister Black,” Minerva inclined her head. “Remus, I believe it would be wise to meet with the Black representatives. They will argue whatever case, whatever client they are given, to the best of their ability. It would damage their reputation if they did not.” 

Remus nodded at Minerva. “Yes, alright.” He turned to Sirius. “Thank you.” 

“Good,” he took a stab at his sausages. “When would you like to set up a meeting?”

“As soon as possible, I think,” Remus swirled his spoon idly in his porridge. “I don’t think I’ll be well after the moon, and by then I might’ve lost a month. I’m. I’m anxious to have an idea of what I’m in for.” 

“Course,” Sirius replied. “I’ll give them a visit today, see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” Remus said again, not looking up from his porridge. The silence set back into the hall. 

“Right,” Sirius swallowed the last bit of his eggs. “I’ve got some errands that need doing.”

Remus tilted his head. “Am I keeping you from any work?”

Sirius shook his head. “I’ve been… freelancing. Creating specialized spells. Mostly contracts from research organizations, the Ministry and the like. I’ve let them know I’m taking some time.” 

“Don’t let me keep you from your work,” Remus’ brow furrowed. 

“Remus,” Sirius replied, finally letting the frustration spill into his tone. “You’re a frustrating man, you know that?”

“I only mean-“ Remus started. 

“Yeah,” Sirius swallowed again, even though he’d cleared his plate. “I’ll see you in a bit, alright?” He didn’t stop to see if Remus replied. It was petty and childish, but, well. Remus had gone into this relationship with his eyes open. 

*

It turned out Blackadder and Grimshaw were more than happy to make an opening for Mr. Black’s partner the next day. Sirius had stumbled over the word partner; a friend wouldn’t be guaranteed to be covered by the language of the retainer, and friend wasn’t the correct word, besides. It simply wasn’t something he was used to talking about. Remus had firmly insisted that association with his name, a name in the public werewolf registry, would tarnish Sirius’ name socially and make finding work difficult. Then he’d insisted it didn’t matter, as Sirius was a convict and not allowed to show his face anywhere in the wizarding or muggle world. 

Sirius gathered some more things from his flat, paid his bills, stalled and oiled his motorbike. It’d been nearly two weeks now since Remus’ return, and he felt more confused than he had been before. 

He slept as Padfoot again that night in the infirmary, and didn’t follow Remus the next morning when he heard him limp across the room. 

*

Remus managed step by dizzy step with controlled breaths. He’d downed eggs this morning for the salt, but still felt a bit nauseous. The hip that had gotten worse with each transformation over the years, supported only by the corded muscles of his back, now had no muscle to support it. He leaned heavily on the cane, and thought hysterically that he was held together with the magical equivalent of tape and glue. 

He paused in front of the heavy ebony door of Blackadder & Grimshaw to catch his breath, putting his other hand against the wall for balance. Then he straightened up and gave the door two sharp knocks. _It’s all about the façade,_ he remembers Lily smiling bravely. 

The door swung open promptly to reveal the sharp-bones faces of Blackadder and Grimshaw. They were nearly identical, jet-black shoulder length hair and medium brown skin in black robes trimmed with emerald. 

“Mr. Lupin,” one of them greeted, and they shook hands, then guided him to a chair. 

“We’ve received the Ministry’s information on Gaunt’s case,” Blackadder opened said file, spreading it over the polished cedar desk. 

Remus cleared his throat politely. “Should I take it you are willing to represent me?”

Blackadder and Grimshaw turned identical expressions of affront on Remus. “Of course,” Blackadder answered. 

“We have represented the Black family and its interests for the past three centuries,” Grimshaw added. “We fully intend to argue your case to the best of our ability. If you find our strategy lacking-“

“No, no,” Remus waved a hand. “I apologize. I have full faith in your firm. Please continue.” 

“Well,” Blackadder continued, mollified. “Mr. Black has informed us you had some concern over your, status, and the validity of your testimony.”

“You may not know this,” Grimshaw added, “but during your time, away, it’s become typical to administer Veritaserum in these cases. Testimony is rarely challenged.” 

Remus felt his spine stiffen, and he took great effort to relax that instinct, to present himself as he needed to. “Am I on trial?” he raised an eyebrow. 

“No,” Grimshaw said immediately. 

“Yes,” Blackadder said, and Grimshaw looked to him, questioning. “Effectively, yes,” Blackadder clarified. “Unfortunately, it is the case that victims are in the courtroom to prove the guilt of their assaulters, and are disbelieved as a rule. Particularly when certain, elements of power and status come into play.”

Remus wanted to rub his forehead, but wanted more to not give a tell. “Will Gaunt be in the courtroom when I give testimony under veritaserum?”

“Yes,” Grimshaw nodded. “The accused has a right to face their accuser, even in instances such as these.”

Remus snorted, bit back on the hysterical laughter just behind his teeth. “Alright,” he agreed. 

“Would you like to review the evidence?” Blackadder offered. 

*

Remus nearly collapsed onto his bed, and was woke in the evening to Snape poking him with a bony finger, then thrusting a goblet of wolfsbane into his half-conscious hands. 

He sat up and drank the goblet with a grimace under Severus’ watchful eye, then passed it back to Severus’ outstretched hand. 

“Severus,” Remus started, but Snape had already turned to leave. 

He tried to fall back asleep, but couldn’t quiet his mind. The sun had not quite yet set, the last rays of light peeking through the window. The moon had already begun to rise, not full for another week. Remus stepped out of bed and into a jumper and trousers. He still hadn’t felt truly warm, no matter how many steaming baths he took. 

He ventured out of the castle, hobbling steady along, and heard the click of paws behind him on the stone. He didn’t acknowledge it, simply kept walking, making a line for the Forbidden Forest. 

He glanced into the dark hollows between the limbs of outlying trees, and continued to skirt the edge, pushing himself further from the castle. He needed to build his strength. He hated being a burden on Poppy at his age. 

He did feel a bit dizzy, but it felt good- to feel the blood pumping in his legs, to breathe in the summer air. He paused to sit on a large boulder that a mammoth tree had grown around, and bent over to catch his breath. 

“It’s getting dark,” Sirius commented. 

“Hallo Padfoot,” Remus greeted. 

“They call it Forbidden for a reason, you know,” Sirius said, offhand. 

Remus snorted. “That never stopped us.” 

“Well, you weren’t normally on the verge of a blackout.”

“They can smell me,” Remus inclined his head towards the forest, and a small creature with luminous eyes scuttled away. Remus bared his teeth in a laugh. “They know what I am. You’re in more danger than me, crippled as I am.” 

“Always thought you smelled nice,” Sirius commented, sniffing the air like Padfoot.

“That’s because you’ve no self-preservation instincts,” Remus shifted to splay out his bad leg with a sigh. 

The forest was always oddly absent of the summer chatter of insects. 

“How was the meeting?” Sirius asked. 

“Fine,” Remus answered vaguely. The silence stretched between them. “Perhaps I ought to head back to the castle.”

“Don’t do this,” Sirius said suddenly. 

“Do what?” Remus arched an eyebrow. “What is it that you want from me?”

“You know what,” Sirius paced, “I thought you’d have learned, after how thick you were the first time round-“

“How thick _I_ was the first time ‘round!” 

“Yes! You!” Sirius raised his voice. “You always think you have to martyr yourself, to accept the most difficult, most painful,” his voice broke, “tasks for yourself and not deign to accept anyone else’s help. Does it feel good, Remus? Do you like it, is that it?” 

“Do I- fuck you,” Remus turned away, grabbed his cane. 

“Talk to me!” Sirius demanded. “Tell me how you really feel, goddamnit. You think you can fool me with,” he gestured, “whatever this is you’re doing? You think you’re doing it for me?”

“Yes,” Remus said in a calm voice. “Yes, that is what I’m doing, clearly. I’m going now.” 

“Coward!” Sirius shouted. Remus ignored him. “Is it worth it, again? Were the consequences not enough for you the first time?” 

Remus whirled around, face white. “How dare you. How dare you talk to me about consequences, like they were my fault. You and James assumed I was the traitor, so I’m the reason he and Lily were killed?”

Sirius went still. He hadn’t meant to say that. Or maybe he had, trying to hurt, to look for the chink in the armor and stab. 

“You want to know how I feel?” Remus said dangerously. “Want to bring up the past? Fine. The werewolf had to be the traitor, isn’t that right?” Remus sneered. “It’s in his nature. I’m doing exactly as you taught me. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m angry that I still have to live through this, every single day for the rest of my long goddamn life. I’m disappointed that I’ve somehow lived past every life expectancy I’ve read for creatures like me. If I’m a coward, it’s because I didn’t do the right thing and finish myself off years ago. I regret it, all the time.” 

“Remus,” Sirius started cautiously. 

“Shut up,” Remus growled. “Stop acting like I’m mad. I’m not. You couldn’t possibly understand what this is like. You think I can just, what, have a good rest and get better? I’m not broken!” He was shouting now, and Sirius took a step back. “If you want me to cope in some way that’s better for you, I don’t give a damn! You’re just as bad as any of them, and I’m tired of groveling for your-.” Remus stopped, and took a deep breath. 

“I didn’t mean-“ Sirius started.

“I don’t want you,” Remus said coldly. “I don’t need you. In fact,” Remus gained control of his tone, “I’d rather you left.” 

“Bullshit,” Sirius said thickly, but Remus was already moving away. “I wonder how many people know how cruel Remus Lupin can be when he’s scared!” Sirius shouted after him.  
*

Remus’ anger burned out quickly, but it left behind an energy that propelled him towards action, that took his feet to the place he needed to be. 

“Lacewings,” Severus muttered when Remus entered. 

“What?” Remus replied automatically. 

“Lacewings,” Severus sighed, pointing imperiously. 

“Right.” Remus picked up the lacewings. “How many?”

“Give them here,” Severus instructed, extending a hand. “Given your abysmal track record in potions, I do not trust you to do even basic maths.” 

“What is it?” Remus tilted his head curiously. The potion had an odd scent, one he couldn’t immediately place. 

“You would not understand if we had several hours,” Severus replied wearily. “If you are using me as a distraction from a lover’s spat-“

“Gaunt’s going to be at the trial,” Remus cut in quickly. 

“Obviously,” Snape drawled. 

“I’ll give you hair, blood, whatever you need. Freely. I know how valuable my body can be.”

Snape’s black eyes glittered. “I am brewing the wolfsbane for the safety of the school, including myself.” 

Remus shook his head. “I’d like to learn Occulemency.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments feed my mandrakes, enchant my lovers, fill my coffers to bursting


	6. Chapter 6

Snape’s black eyes glittered over the rising green steam of his potion. “I cannot imagine what you might need training in Occulemency for,” he gave the word particular emphasis as he gave a clockwise stir. “Of course, your skill in it was always elementary, mediocre at best-“

Remus held up a hand. “My reasons are my own. Are you interested in the deal or not?” 

Snape smiled silkily. “I am interested. Forgive me if I do not shake your hand.” He gave the potion a sniff, and added two more lacewing flies. “Do you really think Gaunt will attempt to invade your mind in a courtroom, filled with aurors and witnesses-“

Remus pulled his wand, which had only just been returned to him by Minerva; it had spent years in a Ministry evidence vault after being dropped during the fight in the Department of Mysteries, when Bellatrix- 

“Do you want the deal,” he snarled, “or not?” 

Severus’ hand had slipped to his own wand, but the smile had not left his face. “Ah, the wolf rears its head at last. You may fool your friends, Lupin, but never me.”

“No, Severus,” Remus replied dryly. “This is anger. I should think you’ve seen it directed toward you often enough to recognize it.” 

“You have an odd approach to therapy, Lupin,” Severus responded, just as dry. “Legilimens!” he hissed suddenly, taking Remus off guard. 

Remus gritted his teeth, and fought back. 

*

Poppy clucked at Remus’ return several hours later, handing him a potion for his splitting headache with an admonishment to eat more regularly. He sat on his cot, past exhaustion. He could not think past the tar pit stream of memories reawakened in his mind, could not feel anything past the searing pain stabbing its way through his left eye. The exhaustion felt cleansing, but he was still wired, could not settle enough to relax into sleep. He spent several minutes waiting for the potion to kick in, breathing through the pain; he had spent so many hours of his life breathing through pain. 

Remus heard the subtle whoosh of air that he’d come to know signaled an animagus transformation, and felt Padfoot’s wet nose bump his hand. He withdrew his hand, and cracked open an eye, wincing at the light stabbing through it. Padfoot’s dark, liquid eyes looked solemnly up at him. 

“I told you, Sirius,” he said coldly, “I want you to leave.” 

Padfoot, uncharacteristically, made no whine of injured protest at this. He simply padded away, nails clicking on the stone floor, until he disappeared from sight. 

Remus looked out the doorway after him for another moment. He felt even more tired now, down to his very bones. He closed his eyes, and waited for the pain to subside, just enough. 

*

It was odd to visit the castle, Harry thought, and to have no connection to it any longer besides the past. It felt like an old friend, and completely strange at the same time. He made his way to the infirmary realizing he no longer knew any current students, and wasn’t that odd? 

He’d left Ginny at home to her sorely needed rest, and now dropped in a couple times a week alone to visit Sirius and Remus. When he reached the infirmary, Remus was asleep. He looked around for any sign of Sirius, ducking to check beneath the beds for Padfoot. He wandered back into the corridor, and pulled out the Marauder’s Map. 

Sirius had taken to disappearing to odd corners of the castle, and the last time Harry had visited he’d sat waiting for a sign of him for hours while Remus was off with the lawyers. This time, he had come prepared. “I solemly swear that I am up to no good,” he tapped the map with his wand. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw the ink bloom to life; it was a work of art, an incredible feat of advanced magic that only a certain group of cocky boys could have conceived possible. 

“Hullo Prongs,” Harry whispered, touching the thick old paper with the tips of his fingers. 

_Mr. Prongs would like to ask what you are up to_ , the script bloomed suspiciously over the paper. 

“I’m looking for Mr. Padfoot,” Harry replied. “Do you think you can help me find him?” 

_Why, am I hiding?_ , another script danced across the page. Sirius; or rather, Sirius as he had been so many years ago. 

_He likes to brood,_ Prongs’ script flowed easily, and the map flipped open to the seventh floor, flashing the outline of a tower above the Gryffindor boy’s rooms. Sure enough, the script SIRIUS BLACK followed a pacing set of footprints. 

Harry managed to persuade the fat lady to let him into Gryffindor Tower, and ascended the boy’s staircase with some wonder. The ceiling felt lower than he remembered, the stairs smaller- and hadn’t he been full grown when he’d left? He ascended to the very top of the stairs, and circled the room stumped. The walls were solid when he tried for a hidden door. 

“Prongs?” he asked, map still in hand. “How do I get to the top of the tower?” 

_You call yourself a Gryffindor_ , Prongs’ script scrawled scornfully over the page. 

_Out the window and up the stairs_ , a new, flowing script announced. 

“Thanks Moony,” Harry said, testing the windows until he found the one that slid open with a muttered _Alohomora._ “Thanks dad,” he added idly, and four different scripts spelled out _WHAT_ on the paper. 

“Mischief managed,” Harry tapped the map with his wand, and stowed it safely in his robes. He found that the roof here was nearly flat, and sure enough, there was a set of stairs cut into the side of the tower directly in front of him, leading to a small enclosure at the top. All those years with it right here in front of him, and he’d never even heard of it. 

It look a few moments for Sirius to recognize he was there, because Sirius was staring intently out at the green grounds ahead of him, his hands tightly gripping the metal rail. He was quietly crying, Harry realized with shock. He thought it might be better for him to go; in all the years he’d known Sirius, he had only seen him cry once or twice. Sirius was an emotive man, quick to hug, quick to his bark of a laugh. But this was different, and it felt like an intrusion. 

It was too late, however; Sirius heard Harry when he tried to take a careful step backward. 

“Ah, Harry!” Sirius said with false cheer, wiping hastily at his eyes. “I didn’t think you even knew about this place. Though you’re a Gryffindor, so of course you would,” he smiled. 

Harry shook his head, and pulled the map from his robes. “Prongs helped me.” 

“Oh,” Sirius said, and to Harry’s horror the tears welled up in his eyes again. “Yes, James was always good at tracking me down when I was in a snit.” He coughed to clear his throat. “Gods, but I still miss him, sometimes.” He looked immediately chagrined. “I’m sorry, Harry, you don’t need to hear about the woes of an old man.” 

“I miss him too,” Harry replied. “I don’t mind, it’s, it’s nice to talk to someone who understands.” 

“Right,” Sirius said, his eyes drifting to the tower Albus Dumbledore had fallen from to his death only a few years prior. “How are you, Harry?” 

“Oh, I’m fine,” Harry walked to stand beside him and survey the grounds. “Just making sure Ginny has ginger beer and licorice. The essentials,” he grinned. 

Sirius barked a laugh. “I remember when Lily was pregnant. James made her pancakes at two in the morning, once. Was all she could eat for weeks.” 

“How’s Remus?” Harry asked politely, and Sirius sobered immediately. 

“He’s tired, I think,” Sirius swallowed. “He. He’s a bit stubborn, you know. Won’t let me help him.” Sirius swallowed again, and wiped hastily at his cheek. “Ah, hell.” 

“He’ll come ‘round,” Harry said supportively. 

“I don’t know, Harry. I certainly hope so.” Sirius looked moodily out into the Forbidden Forest. “You know, when the Longbottoms were tortured, we all said they’d come ‘round. We just couldn’t imagine-“ he broke off. 

“Remus isn’t them,” Harry said firmly. “He’s doing better already. He’ll just need some time.” 

Sirius put a weary smile on. “Of course, of course he’ll be just fine,” he patted Harry’s shoulder. “Harry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I think I might like some time. Could we come up here another day?” 

“Yeah,” Harry leant in and gave Sirius a hug. “See you later.” 

“My best to Ginny and the bump,” Sirius called after him. 

*

Remus woke to the beautiful smell of sharp black tea. He cracked open his eyes, testing, and found the headache had receded to a dull pressure. Harry, sitting in the chair next to his bed, had closed his book and pulled the fresh cup of tea from Remus’ nightstand, tapping it with his wand until a puff of steam rose up. He offered it to Remus, who took a reverent sip. 

“Ta, Harry,” he sighed, putting the mug back down. He sat up, running his tongue over his teeth. Harry was looking at him expectantly; he’d drawn in a breath, then stopped, as if unsure he could ask a question. 

“Harry, do you mind if we go for a walk?” Remus asked, downing the rest of his tea in a few gulps and reaching for his cane. “Only, it helps clear my head a little.”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry said easily enough. 

“Back in a moment,” Remus said, shuffling his way to the bathroom, trying to get his knee to unlock properly as he went. 

The grounds were deep in their summer best, a blend of emeralds, deep blues, and light greens. Remus took the path to his favorite stroll to the head of a rock outcropping on the Black Lake, and looked back at Harry appraisingly. 

“Ok,” he said, “I’m ready.” 

Harry moved up next to him, keeping pace. “Remus,” he began, “I love you like a father. I hope you know that.” 

Remus smiled. “Yes, and?” he added hoarsely. 

“And if you make Sirius cry again, I’ll hex you,” Harry finished. 

Remus winced. “Harry,” he started. 

“I don’t know what you said to him,” Harry cut off. “But-“ 

But this time, Remus cut him off. “Please, listen to me,” Remus said quietly but firmly. “I would bring Sirius far more pain if I hadn’t done what I did. I know how it looks, but ultimately it’s much kinder this way.” 

“Oh, I see now,” Harry said dryly. “So nice of you to make his decisions for him. _He_ might decide he wants to support you, but _you_ know better than that.” 

Remus looked taken aback. “Harry,” he started, but Harry cut him off yet again. 

“I couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to want to isolate myself from everyone in order to protect them,” Harry held back a wayward branch from his face as they passed a narrow portion of the path. “Not only to save them having to deal with the orphaned, traumatized, mad man with Voldemort literally living in his head, but try to literally keep them from dying for me.” 

Remus, for once in his life, was momentarily speechless. “Harry,” he managed, “we _chose_ to protect you, all of us. Albus, he cared for you more than you might know. And your parents, that was simply what love meant to them.” 

“I know,” Harry replied easily. “Easier when you’re the one sacrificing yourself, isn’t it? Odd, how that is.” 

Remus gave him a rueful glance, realizing he’d stumbled into a trap. “Good lord,” he complained, “I know you probably hate hearing this, but it is quite like being trapped between James and Lily both.” 

“Sirius loves you,” Harry replied simply. “He doesn’t deserve to be treated the way you’ve been treating him.” 

Remus winced, and looked away in shame. He didn’t speak for a few long minutes. “I’m sorry. I’ll speak to him.” 

“Yes, I think you’d better,” Harry said simply. 

Remus laughed nervously. “You’re right, this side of it is more difficult than I anticipated.” They came to a clearing leading to the outcropping, and Remus gainfully made his way up the small hill, Harry hovering behind. 

“Oh, Prof- Remus,” Harry corrected himself, slipping up as he asked the question. “I was wondering, how does it feel to be made the figurehead of a cause? You’ve been quite, popular, in the papers, recently.” 

Remus lost his footing and stumbled as his hip went, caught only by his cane. “Merlin’s hairy balls,” he swore while pulling himself upright again, and gave Harry a raised eyebrow. “I thought the interrogation was scheduled for a couple months from now.” 

Harry smiled widely. “Bloody awful, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, I do wish they’d shut up about it,” Remus muttered. “The press will be allowed into the trial, so they’ll have their day soon enough.” He panted a little, but cleared the top of the hill easily enough. He sat down on a boulder to look out at the lake. “I’m eager for it all to be over, if I’m being honest,” he said wearily. 

“It will be,” Harry replied steadily. “And life will go on afterwards. You might as well allow it.” 

“Yes, we’ll see,” Remus said vaguely. 

*

Remus heard the click of Padfoot’s nails on the floor of the infirmary, and a huff of air as Padfoot curled into a ball beneath his customary bed. He’d been feigning sleep for half and hour, now, waiting for Sirius to return. 

“Pads?” Remus called, and he heard Padfoot shuffle out from under the bed, clicking across the floor until he sat at Remus’ bedside, head cocked. 

Remus sat up. “Hallo,” he said quietly, reminded of other days in the infirmary like this, though it had usually been the other way around, with Sirius waiting to be let back into Remus’ good graces. He extended a hand, and Padfoot bumped his wet nose against it. 

“I’m sorry,” Remus whispered, scratching behind the soft ears. Padfoot let out a gentle whine. “I’ve been cruel, and it’s unforgivable behavior on my part. I’m going to do my best to be better.” 

Padfoot gave Remus’ hand a lick, and Remus smiled. “You forgive too easily, my friend,” he said softly, and leaned down to kiss the top of Padfoot’s head. “Sirius. I need some time. Do you understand that? Not because you’ve done anything wrong.” 

Padfoot stood and turned in a little circle, then whined. 

“I don’t know- you could change back and use your words, you know,” Remus said exasperatedly. 

Padfoot ducked his head to the ground and covered his eyes with his paws. 

“Come on,” Remus cajoled. “Look, I promise I won’t yell at you.” 

Padfoot huffed a sigh, then abruptly Sirius stood in his place. “I yelled at you first,” he said. “Was trying to goad you, I think.” 

“Because I’ve been shutting you out,” Remus answered reasonably. “I know I’m not easy to be around.”

“Don’t care whether you’re easy to be around,” Sirius muttered. 

Remus laughed. “I do,” he said simply. 

“Can you, do you,” Sirius didn’t meet his eyes. “Do you really want me gone?”

Remus looked deeply chagrined. “No, no,” he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I just need some time.” 

“Right,” Sirius said stiffly. “Can I come with for the moon?” 

“I’ve got the potion,” Remus answered reasonably. “I’ll be fine.” 

“I know, I know,” Sirius looked embarrassed. “I’ll just feel better. When you, when I thought you were dead, I still knew, you know. How many days ‘till the moon. Every month you were gone, that clock was still inside my head.” 

Remus looked pained. “I’m so sorry,” he said softly. 

“Are you angry with me?” Sirius asked, a bit hoarse. “That I didn’t look, that I didn’t find you?” 

“No,” Remus looked truly upset now. “I thought we’d covered this, Pads.” 

“Yeah,” Sirius shuffled, looking for all the world like a teenager. “It’s just, sometimes you don’t say when you’re really upset, and I don’t always know how to tell.” 

“Come here,” Remus ordered, and Sirius went, kneeling down so Remus could encircle him in a hug. “This isn’t your fault,” Remus murmured. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want you to hurt any more because of me.” 

Sirius looked up at him, glaring. “It’s not because of you, you stubborn lunatic.” 

Remus laughed. “You know, the origins of that word-“ 

“Shut up, Moony,” Sirius huffed, giving Remus’ throat a kiss that made him shiver before he pulled away. “I’ll give you time. But I won’t let you push me away because you think you’re being goddamn noble or something.” 

“Agreed,” Remus said simply, and gave him a quick kiss. “Moon’s tomorrow night.”

“I know,” Sirius said mutinously. 

“Of course. I just meant- stay, until then. After that, give me some time. And don’t owl Poppy too much, she’s got other things to do.” 

Sirius looked like he might argue, but finally nodded. He changed back into Padfoot, gave Remus’ face a disgustingly sloppy lick, then disappeared back under the bed.


	7. Chapter 7

The moon passed, as it always did. Moony was docile under the effects of the Wolfsbane, content to curl up next to Padfoot and snap lazily at a passing mouse with his gleaming maw. It was unclear to Sirius how much of his own mind Remus retained; Remus did not speak of it much. It seemed more like Sirius’ transformation to Padfoot than a true werewolf transformation. He could follow the doggy impulses he felt to chase squirrels, but his human mind was always present.

Remus slept through the next day, and Sirius, respecting his wishes, returned to his own flat before Remus woke. 

He returned to work. He tried to keep himself as busy as he could, to give himself enough of a challenge to keep the hamster wheel of his mind occupied. 

He was in steady contact with Minerva, who owled to keep him up to date on Remus’ actions. He visited his lawyers often, took walks by the forest. He’d gained a bit of weight. He was just as fine as he’d been a few days prior, good lord. 

He only owled Remus once a week. It was pure torture, he thought, then immediately felt guilty for even thinking the word in comparison to what Remus had likely gone through. He had waited years. He could wait a couple months. 

Another moon passed, and Sirius watched as Remus’ body cracked, tore, and formed into the wolf, then reformed again to Remus’ hoarse screams. He picked Remus’ body up off the floor, tucked him into bed, and left Poppy’s potion by his bedside. The routine was familiar and completely alien. He imagined Padfoot giving a soulful whine at being separated from an injured member of his pack, and turned to leave the infirmary. 

Remus was eating under Poppy’s watchful eye; more than once she had tracked him down to watch him eat a sandwich. Sirius had wanted to kiss her for that. Minerva had recruited every member of the castle and its grounds to keep an eye on Remus. It was far better than Sirius himself could have done alone. Remus could walk over a mile, now. The wonders of werewolf healing. Sirius wondered how many knew just how much that healing could not keep up with the ravages of the curse, over time. He imagined he was one of the few. 

He’d found his way to Severus’ dungeon without quite realizing it. He stood still outside Severus’ door, watching Snape’s hooked nose dip closer towards the ancient looking tome he was scouring. 

“Black,” Severus said, not looking up. “Please come in, or, preferably, leave. Either way. Do not stand there like that.”

“Hello,” Sirius said awkwardly, and Snape heaved a great sigh. 

“Tell me what you want,” Snape said flatly, “so we can get this over with as soon as possible.” 

“I want to know how Remus’ Occulemency practice has been going,” Sirius said bluntly. 

Snape smiled without showing teeth, the corners of his lips curling. “The headmistress sees all, does she? Very well. Lupin, once barely competent, is now dismal at the art of Occulemency.”

Sirius, who had been walking over to Snape, stopped in surprise. 

“Lupin did not specify whether I was to keep the content of our lessons secret from you,” Snape showed teeth now. “Honestly, the man used to listen to reason, which made him more tolerable than you. I doubt he can even cast a Patronus, and he thinks he can strong-arm his way through holding a mental defense?” Snape snorted derisively. 

Sirius blinked at Severus across the table. “Remus can’t cast a Patronus?” 

Snape looked back down at his book. “You bore me. Go away.” 

“Occulemency relies on basic shielding magic, right? In the same way a Patronus relies on channeling positive memories to power a defensive shield?” 

“Obviously,” Snape drawled. “That is basic defensive theory, Black. I do not know how well the lessons stuck, but you like everyone else in the Order have attempted Occulemency.” 

Sirius grinned. “Severus!” he said happily, and Snape looked up warily. “I do believe you might be my favorite person right now.” He leaned in and gave Snape a wet smack on the cheek. 

Snape was so stunned that he drew his wand a second too late, the hex bouncing off his door frame as Sirius ran. 

“Thank you!” Sirius called, and heard Snape stutter something that sounded like “You- you blasted homosexual!”

*

Sirius yawned, kicking up his feet on Remus’ bedside as he waited for him to stir. The morning sun shone brightly through the windows as high summer passed to late summer, and the noises of the day beginning had been filtering through the infirmary for a while now. 

Remus stirred slowly, and Sirius studied him. The hollows of his eyes only looked a bit bruised now, not their horrifying gaunt pits of a few months before. Remus’ hair had grown in a little over an inch, looking odd and fuzzy but present all the same. He looked tired, but when had Remus ever looked particularly well-rested? The muscles of his arms still looked wasted, but the bones didn’t protrude quite as horribly. His breathing was steady and even, and his eyelids fluttered as he woke. 

“Sirius?” Remus asked hoarsely, blinking in confusion. 

“Hallo,” Sirius said brightly, handing Remus his potion. “You look lovely this morning.” 

Remus laughed, surprised, and managed to inhale some of his potion, which turned the laughter into a series of wheezing coughs. “Oh, dear lord,” he managed when he caught his breath. “Love truly is blind.” 

“So you believe I love you, then,” Sirius returned happily. “Good day.” 

“For you, maybe,” Remus groaned, and shifted to his other side, then gave up and lay on his back. “I’m going back to sleep, now.” 

“Ok, love,” Sirius gave his hand a squeeze, then retrieved the goblet from Remus’ hands. “Can I ask you a question?” 

Remus settled back in his pillows. “Go ahead.” 

“Why do you want to practice Occulemency?” 

Remus turned a baleful eye on him. “That greasy git.” 

“Moony,” Sirius tutted disapprovingly, doing his best Remus The Prefect impression, which James had so loved. 

“He says much worse to me,” Remus waved a hand. “Anyway, I suppose he told you I’m complete pants at it.” 

“Why are you doing it?” Sirius persisted, familiar with Remus’ methods of deflection. 

Remus closed his eyes briefly. “I’m tired of feeling weak. I want to be in control of my own mind again.” 

“Alright,” Sirius said easily. “Snape says he doesn’t think you can produce a Patronus.” 

Remus shook his head wearily. “No. I’m too weak.” 

“Bollocks,” Sirius answered shortly, and Remus opened his eyes in surprise. “Do you remember what you told me about Patronuses when I’d just got out of Azkaban?” 

“You said you felt like all the color’d been drained from your memories,” Remus said slowly. “That they were still there, but not in the ways that mattered.” 

Sirius retrieved Remus’ wand from his bedside table, and placed it in his hand. “Do you remember what you did?” 

“I showed you,” Remus said hoarsely, gripping his wand. 

“That’s right,” Sirius smiled encouragingly. “It’s about time I repaid the favor, isn’t it?” He grasped Remus’ empty hand. 

“Legilimens,” Remus whispered, and Sirius felt him brush against his mind. He showed him how it felt to watch Remus wake up this morning. Remus smiling at Harry, Remus in this same bed decades ago, rolling his eyes at Sirius’ antics. Remus forgiving him after the Prank. Remus holding him after his parents disowned him for good, Remus stroking his hair when he couldn’t calm down and felt the ancient walls of Grimmauld Place closing in on him. Remus reading, Remus drinking a dozen different mugs of tea, Remus looking up to smile fondly at him. Remus, steady, dependable, with a moral anchor the size of a giant. 

Remus pulled away, and Sirius opened his eyes. “I love you,” Sirius said, and watched Remus look away. “Let me know when you’ll let me help you.” 

Remus opened his mouth, looking uncomfortable, but Sirius shook his head. “Go to sleep. I’ll owl you.” He leaned in to kiss Remus’ forehead, and left the room. 

*

Another moon came, and the end of the summer drew near. Remus was nearly back to his previous health, though that wasn’t saying much; war time and the effects of having “the werewolf, Remus Lupin,” printed in the Daily Prophet had left him tired, threadbare, and starved. 

He’d let Sirius back into his life slowly. They’d discussed with McGonagall and the lawyers what might be acceptable to say of Remus’ life and deeds during the first and second war. Remus always argued for less information, and the lawyers more. In the end, he agreed that whatever might help the cause would be a loss of privacy he’d be willing to endure. 

Finally, Remus owled him one afternoon asking if they might spend that Saturday together in one of the smaller classrooms. He’d like to practice the Patronus charm. 

Sirius felt a relief so tangible that he laughed aloud as he read the letter. Thank Merlin. 

Sirius knocked on the door of the room, surprised to find it was adjacent to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. 

“Severus taught defense before Voldemort’s fall,” Remus called out. “But he decided he didn’t like it very much after all. He was a Potions Master before anything else. The job’s no longer jinxed, but the last teacher deserted her post after just two years. It seems no one wants the job,” he smiled. 

“Dumbl-Minerva found a replacement, yet?” Sirius asked, sitting casually on one of the desks. 

“No,” Remus shook his head. “I do miss this job. Steady salary, and all that.” He hopped down from the podium at the front of the room. “I want you to understand that you can say no to what I’m about to ask you.”

“Yes,” Sirius waved a hand. 

“No,” Remus chided, “listen, first. I went to Severus because I knew he could remain relatively unaffected by my memories. I don’t intend to subject you to them, but you may happen across them.” 

“You mean, with Gaunt,” Sirius kept his face expressionless. 

Remus shivered. “Yes,” he replied, short. “Anyway. I thought about what you said, and you’re right. There’s no one better to help me find the memory to produce a Patronus.”

“Like you did with me,” Sirius nodded. “A shared memory of ours, so you could help me feel it with you.” 

“Yes,” Remus nodded. _Correct, Mr. Black,_ Sirius thought fondly. 

Sirius cracked his knuckles and pulled out a chair, sitting. “Let’s get on with it, then.” 

Remus sat carefully in the chair next to his. “You don’t have to,” he reminded Sirius. 

“You ready?” Sirius asked, pulling out his wand. 

Remus controlled his expression and nodded, grasping his wand. 

“What am I looking for, on my end?” Sirius asked. 

“The memory I’ve always used is when you told me about the animagus transformations, that day in the forest,” Remus gave him a small smile. 

“Right,” Sirius concentrated. “Ok, got it. On three. One, two,-“ 

“Legilimens,” they said together, and Sirius felt Remus’ memories wash over him in a tidal wave, sweeping his feet out from beneath him. 

Pain lived in the fabric of Remus’ memory, in the stitching holding it together. In his body, wounds stitched shut the muggle way that no poultice could heal. He was frozen on a cold table, unable to scream, unable to blink. He watched the edge of the silver knife, and could not move. Seconds felt like years, he would be trapped here forever, until he died. Gaunt brought him back to life, again, and he curled up on himself and cried. He felt the shiver of Gaunt pressing through his mind, and could not stop him. Gaunt sifted through his memories, happy and sad, with vague disinterest- how had the beast lived among them for so long? How had he fooled them? How did he learn magic at a school for wizards? His touch was cold and sharp, like frost, impersonal. He’d always thought, he’d always thought-

Remus regained control of his mind, and steered Sirius away. 

 

 _I’m sorry,_ Remus’ regret flooded Sirius’ mind, and Sirius regained his feet. 

_No apologies_ , Sirius replied shortly, and found the memory he’d been looking for, guided Remus towards his own. 

_Remus gaped at the three of them as they shifted back to three madly grinning boys._

_“Werewolves only go for humans,” Sirius explained, nearly bouncing with glee at the revelation of a surprise three years in the making. “So we figured we’d just become animagi.” He thought of the screams they heard from afar, of a 12, 13, 14 year old Remus transforming in the Shrieking Shack and tearing at his own body. The horror and helplessness he’d felt at seeing Remus’ body covered in scratches and bites the next day. How he’d hidden in the bathroom to cry, hiccupping into his robes. How determined he’d been to work on a cure, except then he realized that Lyall Lupin had spent his entire life looking for one._

_“We figured,” Sirius elbowed James and Peter. “Well. At least, you won’t have to ever be alone again. ‘Cause we’ll be with you.”_

_And Remus, who never smiled with his chipped teeth and never let anyone see him cry, hiccupped a laugh and started sobbing his laughter into the quiet forest, then was quickly surrounded by fierce hugs and claps on the back._

Sirius felt Remus watching himself through Sirius’ memory, felt Remus’ own joy well up at once, and disentangled himself from the memory. They came back to the classroom, and Remus took a deep breath. 

“Expecto Patronum,” Remus said decisively, and a jet of white mist shot from the tip of his wand. It held for a few long moments, but did not become corporeal, and vanished. Remus frowned. 

“That’s progress,” Sirius reminded him. “You’ve got to have patience with yourself.” 

“Thank you,” Remus said sincerely, and Sirius bumped their shoulders together. 

“I said you wouldn’t have to be alone again, didn’t I?” Sirius crossed his arms. “Not while I could help it.”

Remus gave him a crooked smile at this, leaned in, and kissed him. 

Sirius hummed happily, and kissed back until Remus pulled away with a sigh. 

“How are you for walking?” Sirius asked. 

“Oh, I’m good for a few more hours yet,” Remus stood. “Why, somewhere you want to go?” 

“Routine Order meeting,” Sirius pushed their chairs back in to the desks. “You should come with me. Everyone’s been waiting to see you. I’ve made them promise not to ask too many questions.” 

Remus bit his lip. “I don’t know,” he said vaguely. “Ought I? Was I invited?” 

Sirius boggled. “Were you, invited? Merlin’s beard, Remus. You’ve been a member longer than most anyone there.” 

“Hm,” Remus said, clearly not convinced. 

* 

The new Burrow was as warm a place it had ever been, with the mild summer evening and the smell of Molly’s cooking filling the air fit to burst. As Sirius and Remus apparated into the grounds and made their way to the front door, they could hear laughter ring out from the kitchen table. Sirius knocked twice, and Arthur greeted them. 

“Sirius,” Arthur nodded with a smile, then his eyes widened. “Remus!” he exclaimed. “Dear lord!” He turned and shouted. “Molly, he’s brought Remus!” He clapped Remus warmly on the shoulder and ushered him in. 

A hush had fallen through the house, and curious eyes peeked into the entrance hall. Arthur steered Remus decisively to the broad kitchen table, pulling out a chair for him to sit. Remus stood awkwardly, eyeing all the room’s inhabitants. 

There were Bill and Fleur over in the corner with Charlie, Kingsley and Tonks sitting at the table with George, Harry and Ginny with Molly rubbing her swollen ankles. Hermione and Ron were staring up at him, as were Neville and Luna. There were a few new faces, and so many missing. This was it, the world that had moved on without him, and the reality of it was staggering. 

Luna stood, tugging Neville up with her. “Welcome back, Professor,” she said with her soft, lilting voice, and several other chairs scraped across the floor as the other members stood. Arthur gave Remus a broad smile, and began to clap. The others joined in at once, smiling and laughing. 

Remus stood rooted to the spot in shock, and felt Sirius’ hand wrap around his waist. Remus, sufficiently grounded, snapped back to earth with a flush of embarrassment, and took his seat. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely, and Sirius waved a hand at them all until the applause died down. 

“No more, no more,” Sirius said good-naturedly, “he hates crying.” 

Remus flicked his ear, and several laughs rang out. 

“So,” Remus drew an unclaimed mug of tea towards himself, “what have I missed?” 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trying to earn my nc-17 rating

The summer afternoon was so long as to feel endless, as it hadn’t since Remus was a child roaming the fields of his parent’s home in the country. 

Padfoot trotted up to him with a stick the length of his body and a doggy grin, and Remus took it. “Why, thank you,” he murmured, and threw the stick into the shallow end of the Black Lake. Padfoot tore after it, and Remus watched him go. 

When Padfoot returned sodden but triumphant, he did a little circle then gave himself a shake, dispersing water far and wide. Remus attempted to chase him, but only succeeded in a half grab of his tail while Padfoot barked and ran circles around him. 

Eventually, Remus simply sat and waited for Padfoot to get bored. It did not take long. Padfoot sprawled on a patch of grass near him and waited to dry in the heat, chewing idly on his captured stick. 

“I’ve been thinking I’ve rather outgrown the infirmary bed,” Remus said idly, “and that the children will be returning soon.” 

At this, Padfoot sat up immediately. His tail thumped twice on the ground. 

“Would you mind if I came home with you?” Remus glanced at him. 

Padfoot ran another of his circles around Remus, barking joyously. 

“Let’s pack up before it gets dark, then,” Remus said, and Padfoot loped ahead of him in excitement, stick forgotten. 

*

Sirius had barely seen Remus in the days since he’d moved into his flat. Nearly every waking moment was spent speaking with his lawyers, pouring over legal documents in the library, imagining what truths might come to light under the Veritaserum. 

It was this last looming eventuality that he knew brought Remus the most worry. His privacy was such a careful thing, painstakingly maintained. He trusted very few with his inner thoughts, with good reason- few had earned it. The consequences of that trust being broken, Sirius knew well, were potentially fatal. 

During the day, Remus was preparing himself, talking to the young people who had persuaded him to testify. At night, he either slept fitfully in the guest room or paced the apartment after waking every couple hours. 

Sirius did not mind; Remus was here, in his home. Remus was safe, and as healthy as he could be. He now felt, as Harry had said, that they would carry on- that no matter what, they had each other. 

It was late for Remus to be out. The sun had set, and the street lamps glowed brightly outside his window. He had stopped in briefly in the evening, then left again for a walk in a flurry of anxious energy.

The trial was tomorrow, and Remus had been called to testify in the morning. In a few short hours, one way or another, the ordeal would be over. 

Sirius heard the key turn in the door, and breathed a sigh of relief. His door was open, and he contemplated whether he should greet Remus now. It had been difficult to tell, years ago, whether Remus wanted solitude or company in these moods. Now, he nearly always chose space and quiet. 

Sirius heard Remus tread through the main room, then directly to Sirius' bedroom door. Sirius stood. This, at least, was a clear signal, and he was glad for it. 

Remus leant in the doorframe, and Sirius crossed the room to him. Remus’ eyes were intent on his, and Sirius met him, feeling a shiver travel down his neck and over his shoulders. 

A quiet, suppressed energy had filled the man standing in front of him, his eyes wide and fingers fidgeting uncharacteristically with the hem of his shirt. Remus moved forward, and Sirius had seen this before- graceful, predatory. 

Remus stopped just inches from Sirius’ body, lifted a hand to cup the back of Sirius’ head and held it there. 

“Tell me no,” Remus said softly. “If you want to stop, just tell me-“ 

Sirius leaned forward, closing the bare inches between them, and kissed him. 

Remus immediately pressed back, taking control of the kiss, holding Sirius’ head in place how he liked. He darted his tongue in between Sirius’ lips, threaded his fingers in Sirius’ hair to grip tight. He pressed his body along the length of Sirius’, ran his free hand down the back of Sirius’ trousers to squeeze his arse and force Sirius’ hips to press against his. 

“Yes?” Remus said softly against the corner of his mouth, and Sirius groaned. 

“Yes, yes,” he gasped when Remus’ finger’s in his hair tightened and wrenched his neck to the side. “Please,” he managed, not knowing what he was asking for, as Remus’ lips traveled down the side of his neck. Remus rolled the sensitive skin over his tendon between his teeth, and Sirius’ hips jerked. Remus thrust back against him, and Sirius could already feel him getting hard. He reached back blindly, trying to touch, but Remus firmly pushed his hands away while he gave him a gentle kiss at the base of his jaw. _Let me lead._

“Get your pants off,” Remus said roughly into his ear, and Sirius worked at once to obey- _good boy_!

Remus stripped easily, watching Sirius as he went with a calculating expression. Once Sirius was naked and shivering, he stood awkwardly, waiting for Remus to give him an order. 

“On the bed,” Remus said softly, and Sirius shivered at the control in his voice. Remus was at ease in his body like this, carried himself with surprising grace. He did not look at all self-conscious standing nude while he watched Sirius, his hands at his sides and his cock half hard. 

Sirius watched him from where he leaned back on the bed, propped up on his elbows. Remus was all tense whipcord muscle and careful movements as he approached, and Sirius took the moment to catalogue the new scars. There were long, thin surgical lines from silver knives over his abdomen, the familiar ropy scars from claw marks. Two new bite marks, complete sets of teeth from maws clamped down to tear and maim. Angles Moony couldn’t possibly have reached to inflict. 

Sirius reached out, fingers brushing the bite on Remus’ side, the indents where sharp teeth had pressed in and torn. Remus folded the hand in his own, not a reproach, guiding. He moved forward to lower himself over Sirius’ body and press first this hand, then the other, firmly to the mattress above Sirius’ head.

Remus’ body was in full contact with every inch of Sirius’ skin, and Sirius thought he might die from just this, all this touch he couldn’t process. Then Remus thrust his cock against Sirius, leant in to claim his mouth, and Sirius’ body jumped at the contact. But Remus held him fast, his weight pressing him down, his hands keeping Sirius’ pinned as they convulsed. 

Remus pulled back from the kiss, held both of Sirius’ hands in one of his own, and reached down to stroke their cocks together. Sirius hissed and squirmed from overstimulation, but Remus ignored the protest and Sirius gave up, panting and thrusting lazily into Remus’ grip. 

Remus kissed him gently at this- _good boy_. Sirius smiled, and Remus pulled back to look at him when he felt it, and Sirius blinked up at him hazily. He wrapped his legs around Remus’ waist, bringing their bodies back into sharp contact as Remus’ cock brushed over his ass. 

Remus shuddered gratifyingly at this, and Sirius wriggled a bit, trying to free one of his hands. He wanted to touch him, he wanted to grab Remus and pull him back down to him- 

But then Remus’ fingers reached down to brush past the base of Sirius’ cock, down to his hole, and Sirius’ breath caught. Sirius pushed back; they didn’t need words to communicate. Remus’ brow furrowed in that way it did when he was trying to concentrate. 

Remus could do wandless magic; little things that were intuitive and natural. Magical beings often could. To house elves, this was second nature. But a werewolf, in the body of a human with magic that flowed differently from an ordinary witch or wizard, was a fascination for Gaunt-

Sirius felt a slick pressure move inside him, and he was wholly occupied with the phantom sensation, calves clenching reflexively on Remus’ back. It’d been too long since he’d been fucked, years. He registered Remus’ broad, strong hands moving to press Sirius’ knees up, a brush of lips against Sirius’ ankle. Then, Remus was pushing in where Sirius was slick and only just ready, slow and inexorable, and Sirius threw his head back, closed his eyes, shook. 

Remus bottomed out, stayed there for a moment while Sirius tried to breathe. It hurt, a bit, after so long, and he knew Remus was watching his expression, feeling his body tense around him. He placed a gentle hand on Sirius’ throat, not pressing, but to help him. _Submit_. 

Sirius wanted to say that he felt safe. Remus topping was Remus in control, firm and gentle. Sirius was the rough one, wanting bites and scratches while Remus teased him to begging. This was what Remus wanted tonight; he was never as in control of himself and present in his body as when he was fucking Sirius. And, more than anything, Sirius wanted to give that to him. 

He begged Remus to touch him, mindless words as Remus leaned down to run his tongue over one of Sirius nipples, forcing his cock in deeper, thrusts short as he fucked him. 

All at once, Remus gasped, looking a bit shocked by himself, thrust once, twice, and came. He hadn’t come this fast since their school days, but Sirius only felt a giddy sort of joy. He made Remus feel so good that he couldn’t hold back. Remus had come inside of him, there was nothing between them, and he looked up at Remus with a dazed kind of happiness. 

Remus reached down and took Sirius’ cock in his hand as he pulled out, and Sirius came with a loud cry at the feeling of the trickle of Remus’ come leaving his ass. 

Remus leaned in and kissed his face gently as Sirius caught his breath, first one cheek, then the other, then his forehead, his lips. Sirius rolled them onto their sides, freed now from Remus’ commands. He touched back, stroking his fingertips through Remus’ hair, down his spine, until Remus tucked his nose in the crook of Sirius neck. 

“I’m afraid,” Remus admitted softly, stumbling through the words. 

“I know,” Sirius sighed into his hair. “Do you remember what the Sorting Hat told you, when you told him you couldn’t be in Gryffindor because you were scared all the time?” 

Remus laughed softly. “I remember.”

Sirius wormed his way to settle Remus against his side, running a palm down his back. “Gryffindor brave in the face of pants shitting terror, can’t escape it. World’s just… given you a lot of chances to be.”

“Mm,” Remus said noncommittally. 

“I’ll be proud of you,” Sirius said. “No matter what. And when it’s over, we can come back here and do whatever you like. We can live off takeout for days.” 

“I love you,” Remus sighs. 

“Yeah,” Sirius turns to root around for his wand and work on some cleaning charms. “I know.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving slower than molasses in winter on this one, sorry for the absence. I’m using most of my time to write the Marauders book, which actually pays attention to canon and isn’t for the melodrama of it all. This chapter, on the other hand, is entirely an angst fest. It’s remarkably free of Remus’ character flaws- one should not have to be a mockingbird to deserve their civil rights, but I suppose it lends itself to drama~

The high mahogany stadium seating was filled with witches and wizards in scarlet and black robes. A full criminal trial; Sirius was familiar with the chamber from his own trial that ended with his exoneration. He felt nauseous simply being in the room again, and had the absurd urge to run lest they send him back to Azkaban- though, of course, there had been no trial when that had happened. 

This time around, however, there were also various members of the wizarding media present with QuickQuills ready- he would recognize Xenophilus Lovegood’s wide, unblinking eyes anywhere. He watched Remus walk past Gaunt and his lawyers to greet Blackadder and Grimshaw. 

Sirius ascended the ancient wooden stairs to join Harry in the balcony, who was dressed in his Auror’s robes with his hair slicked back as best he was able. He gave Harry a nod in greeting, and sat to watch Remus sit beside his lawyers. 

Remus sat with excellent posture in the plain but neat robes he’d allowed Sirius to buy him. The chatter amongst the Wizengamot died down as Sirius watched Remus’ hands fold together. Remus hadn’t allowed Sirius to hold his hand on their way in. It was a habit of his that Sirius now understood after years of reflexive hurt. In any situation that attempted to force vulnerability from him, Remus had a peculiar way of raising every mental wall until he felt nothing. Sirius had envied him the ability during the war, until he himself had experienced that desperate, trapped lack of emotion under the dementors. 

Grimshaw asked to begin with an opening remark and subsequently took the floor. 

“You’ve heard from the defense,” Grimshaw began, “and there is little doubt the Fulvius Gaunt is guilty. He can hardly argue otherwise, given the evidence against him. Why, then, are we here?” 

Remus’ eyes darted to the side; he couldn’t quite see Gaunt beside him and certainly wouldn’t be able to see him from the witness’ chair, which was a blessing and a curse. Could he have spoken with Gaunt staring him in the eye? But the instinct to never turn his back on an enemy- constant vigilance!- was as strong as it ever was. His eyes were glassy with the Veritaserum, which took hold before they entered the chamber. 

“We are here because the law as it stands states that the crimes of nature Gaunt committed- torture and murder- are not illegal. Gaunt only faces the minor charge of having practiced Dark magic on Dark creatures. Experimentation, the defense argues, is not illegal. A Dark creature, after all, is a lesser being than a human- do these words sound familiar? They should. I am quoting Lord Voldemort.”

There was a chorus of hissing that followed these words, to which the corner of Grimshaw’s mouth quirked briefly in a smile. Remus had once told the legal partners that they would have made quite the Gryffindors. They, of course, immediately took offense at this, and were only mollified when Remus assured them that they clearly had the shrewdness that characterized a Slytherin above all else. 

“The defense would like to call upon the obligation to learn from our history. From what forces of entitlement and hatred led to the tyranny of Lord Voldemort and supporters like Fulvius Gaunt. To rectify the unfounded prejudices of our past not only in our words but in our actions. We will demonstrate beyond doubt that unfounded prejudice led us to regard individuals like Remus Lupin as less deserving of the right to live freely and peacefully. We hope the court’s decision will reflect our principles, to send the clear message that we will not allow any witch or wizard to inflict terror and pain on sentient beings without the full weight of legal repercussion.” 

Blackadder led Minerva McGonagall to the witness’ chair. Sirius felt a horrible tension in his body that begged to be done with one way or another. He couldn't imagine how Remus was feeling somewhere under his detached calm. 

Sirius found that he missed several words every few minutes watching Remus, aching to close the distance between them. He felt Harry give his shoulder a light squeeze, and returned to the room. 

“You were in the confidence of Albus Dumbledore during the war?” the Chief Warlock asked Minerva with some interest. 

“Yes,” Minerva’s high voice is clear as it echoes through the room. Her face was set in a fierce expression of determination that has cowed many a student through the years. “Albus was a man who kept his cards close to his chest, but I believe I was taken into his confidence more than any other.” 

There were some whispers in the balcony. “You were aware of Remus Lupin’s presence among Fenrir Greyback’s werewolf camp?” There were more mutterings at this; a mention of werewolves drew up the image of Greyback in the collective consciousness, feral and hungry for blood.

“Yes,” Minerva pursed her lips. “Albus first sent Mr. Lupin as a spy among Greyback’s ranks at the age of 18. I believe he confided in me because of a terrible guilt he felt at the orders he’d given Remus. Orders the boy could hardly refuse, given the debt he felt he owed Albus. I was, well, frankly, I still am angry with Albus for what I still believe was an unforgivably cruel coercion.” 

“A debt Mr. Lupin felt towards Albus Dumbledore- could you clarify?” the Chief Warlock interjected. 

“For allowing Mr. Lupin to attend Hogwarts, of course. He would never have been allowed to learn magic, otherwise.” 

“Lupin had already been bitten when he attended Hogwarts?” a witch with scarlet robes amongst the ranks of the Wizengamot asked. 

“I believe that is his story to tell,” Minerva answered shortly. “In any case, I can confirm that Remus Lupin was an original member of the Order of the Phoenix, and chose to fight Lord Voldemort’s rise to power a second time. At great personal danger, and terrible cost.” 

“Can you confirm the rumors that he was friends with James Potter?” another wizard asked from the balcony, eyes attentive behind wide spectales. 

“Aye,” McGonagall smiled to herself. “Lupin, Potter, and Black- you never saw one without one or two of the others. I’ve seen few friendships like that in my time. Remus was also close friends with Miss Lily Evans. They were the responsible, level-headed ones- it was why I chose them as prefects. They were all members of the Order.” Her smile slipped. “And well- you know that when I say great personal cost, I do not exaggerate. Remus Lupin dedicated his life to the war, and lost everything. After October of 1981, I regret to say I was distracted by other concerns, and none of us spared him much thought. I know the years were not kind to him- when I saw him again twelve years later, he looked like he’d aged decades. He hadn’t the money to buy a train ticket. I’d always thought, he was so bright, that surely the restrictions on employment wouldn’t,” she sighed. “I was foolish.” 

“How would you characterize Mr. Lupin’s actions during the war?” Blackadder asked. 

“This will embarrass him- he was a hero. He did thankless work, expecting no recognition. He starved, traveled miles to sleep in the cold, had no income except what Albus remembered to afford him. He saved countless lives with the information he fed the order, and was punished for it more than once. I know that he saved the lives and the health of some of the children of the Wizengamot,” she looked at them all sternly. “He did what he did because he believed it to be the right thing to do, and thought little of sacrificing himself for others.” 

Blackadder invited the Wizengamot to ask questions regarding any of the evidence Minerva had written for them, and eventually thanked her for her time. There was a brief break wherein Blackadder and Grimshaw spoke with Remus, and he was compelled by a messenger to take another sip of Veritaserum. 

Sirius felt his fingernails digging into his thighs through the fabric of his robes when Remus was called to the witness chair. The chains rattled lazily; Sirius had a flash of memory from his own trial when, in a brief moment of paranoia, he’d considered whether they’d simply lured him there to pronounce his guilt. 

Remus spoke his full name softly, but no one asked him to raise his voice; the magical acoustics of the room meant that he was heard by all. 

Grimshaw confirmed that Remus agreed with Minerva’s testimony to the best of his knowledge, then allowed the Wizengamot to asks questions about the evidence presented so far. 

“Headmistress McGonagall stated that the story of your attendance at Hogwarts is yours to tell,” the witch who had been rebuffed earlier persisted. “Would you mind telling the court how long you remained at Hogwarts after being infected with lycanthropy?” 

The Chief Warlock allowed the question, and the words tumbled from Remus’ mouth without censure. 

“I was bitten by Fenrir Greyback when I was four years old,” Remus’ speech was clear and devoid of inflection. “I was already infected when I was invited by the headmaster to attend Hogwarts.” 

“That was quite dangerous, was it not!” the witch exclaimed. “To spend seven years in the company of children!” 

“I was also a child,” Remus said softly. “And I was unable to infect anyone outside the full moon. Strict precautions were in place to ensure I posed no danger to the other students. I transformed in what is now known as the Shrieking Shack by Hogsmeade villagers. It was heavily warded by Dumbledore himself to ensure I would be contained during my transformations. The Whomping Willow was planted the year I arrived to protect the entrance to the shack from the grounds.”

“Why did the villagers come to call it the Shrieking Shack?” Grimshaw prompted.

“Because of my screams. The transformations were very painful. And when the wolf was confined, it bit and tore at its own flesh.”

“You say it, as if it is separate from you. Do you not consider yourself to be a wolf?” 

“No,” Remus replied shortly. “It is a terrible curse, one which I will never be free of. It has taken my body from me.” 

“Why did you serve the Order when Albus called?” Grimshaw continued. 

“Because by then I had already met Greyback. And I knew he had to be stopped, at any cost.” 

Grimshaw waved a quieting hand at the noise from the press at this. “Under what circumstances did you first meet Fenrir Greyback?” 

“I hadn’t known who had bitten me for many years,” Remus continued, staring at nothing. “I’d assumed I’d been bitten by a werewolf who had lost control. I felt sorry for them. I grew obsessed with learning of their fate. James and Sirius helped me track evidence down a rabbit hole, until finally we came up with a name. It was difficult; my father had protected my anonymity, and therefore my safety, very carefully.

“Fenrir wasn’t well known then, so it was upon me to find him and ask him what had happened. I learned that he was an evil man, one who deliberately preyed on children. ‘Turn them young,’ he would say.” Remus lip curled in disgust. “Take them in once their parents reject them, raise them to know and rely on no one but him. He tried to convince me no one could ever fully love and accept me the way he did. Once he had found me, he wanted me back- I barely managed to get away from him that first time.”

“How did meeting Greyback impact you?” 

“I was devastated. The man was a monster, in every sense of the word.” 

“But he was not the only other werewolf you met.” 

“No,” Remus answered readily. “I met many other werewolves in the work I did for Albus.” 

“Did they join Greyback’s pack because they wanted to attack humans?” 

Remus laughed, a short, hollow sound. “No. What Greyback was- I realized he was an evil man without lycanthropy. The curse hadn’t made him a predator of children.”

There were several moments of whispers among the press at this until they quieted down. 

“Why did other werewolves join him?” Grimshaw continued. 

“He gave them promises. To most, he didn’t couch it as revenge. He couched it as justice. You have to understand- they’d spent years being given a clear message that the Ministry preferred them dead. There was a woman, in 1980, who’d been found murdered. She hadn’t told the man she was dating that she was a werewolf. When he found out, he stabbed her fifteen times and carved the word “werewolf” into her body. When the Ministry finally held a trial, the man used a lycanthrope panic defense- and he went free, no charges. He wasn’t the only one.” 

“Could she have passed the curse to him?” a member of the Wizengamot with a low, gravely voice asked. 

“No,” Remus frowned. “But even if she could have- is it permissible to have killed her? Is that not murder? If she had turned anyone, she would have been immediately put to death by law, even if it had been unintentional on her part.”

“Did you find that most werewolves you met were killed because they’d bitten others?” Grimshaw led. 

“No,” Remus answered at once. “The leading cause of death among individuals with lycanthropy is suicide. It is highly correlated with family rejection, social isolation, and anticipated stigma. To let someone close enough to know you are a werewolf- it could mean letting in your murderer. The second leading cause of death is injuries sustained by locking one’s self up during the full moon to avoid infecting others.” 

“Perhaps that used to be true,” one smug voice rang out from the Wizengamot, “but in during the second war any one of them could have simply procured the Wolfsbane Potion.” 

“I agree that they should have been able to,” Remus answered smoothly. “But we are talking about a group of individuals facing employment restrictions so strict that they could not feed themselves, much less purchase an expensive potion to ease their suffering. Most are in medical debt on top of their lack of income from injuries they have sustained by separating themselves from others during the Change. It is a potion few skilled witches and wizards can brew, and they can charge whatever they like for it. Even I, with a full Hogwarts education, only ever accessed the potion because Severus Snape brewed it for me. You cannot imagine what it was like- to retain my mind during the transformation, to not fear losing control and harming someone.” 

“We’ve covered the means by which you were abducted while protecting Harry Potter as a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Fulvius Gaunt himself has admitted to the methods by which he has tortured you, which included the use of Legilimency and the Imperius Curse. Under his capture, what were you most afraid of?”

“That I would be forced to infect others,” Remus answered softly. 

“I want to remind the Wizengamot that Remus Lupin is under the influence of Veritaserum,” Grimshaw turned back to Remus. “Gaunt used a body bind curse while he cut your body open, while you were fully conscious, without any means to alleviate your pain. Yet what you feared most was being forced to infect others?” 

“Yes,” Remus confirmed. “Gaunt used starvation to ensure I was too weak to escape. I felt I was likely dying, and that Gaunt knew there was the possibility I would die. I thought he might force me to infect others to create more test subjects. It was one thing to die myself- but to be the reason another would continue to suffer the way I had after my death…” Remus paused, gathering his thoughts. “I tried to kill myself more than once to avoid subjecting another to that fate.” 

“Is that why you chose not to have children?” Grimshaw asked. 

“I isolated myself for many years to make sure that would not be a possibility,” Remus acknowledged. “Even after I was registered, I was still sick at the thought.” 

“For the court,” Grimshaw addressed them, “every registered werewolf is sterilized.” He turned back to Remus. “Have you known any werewolves that have had children of their own?” 

“Yes,” Remus answered, and continued to speak over the whispers in the court. “Several.” 

“Have any of them passed on their lycanthropy?” 

“No,” Remus answered. “Like most curses, it seems it is not passed on to children.” 

“Have there ever been any studies, in all the decades the Werewolf Registry has operated, to justify their practice of sterilization?” 

“No,” Remus answered. “And, given their current treatment of the werewolf community, I doubt any with children could have trusted the Ministry with this information, least their children be taken away from them. Or experimented upon.” 

“Would you have liked to have children?” 

Remus paused for a few moments at this, and the answer came through his teeth. “Sometimes, I imagine it, and I- I want it very badly. But I- don’t let myself think on it.” 

“Despite this, you fought at many points with members of the Ministry to defend it.” 

“I fought against Voldemort,” Remus replied. 

“Because it was the right thing to do,” Grimshaw led. 

“Yes,” Remus answered simply. “And I would choose to do it all over again.” 

“No matter the cost.” 

“Yes.” 

“Even if Fulvius Gaunt, under whom you endured four years of imprisonment and torture, walked free today?” 

“Any revenge Greyback might have offered would not change mine or any other lycanthrope’s circumstances. It would not give us food, or medication, or employment, or acceptance. I always thought,” he barreled on, unable to stop, “that if someone got to know me well enough, that they would see, that they wouldn’t hate us quite so much. The intensity of their hatred, it never made sense to me, I thought it must be misinformation- but Gaunt knew everything I felt, and he didn’t care. I wasn’t human. He still believed somehow that I couldn’t feel.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Lupin,” Grimshaw cut off gently. “One more question- why did you come here today?”

“I was asked to,” Remus answered. “By a young group of people with lycanthropy. I know how much they suffer. I want the world to be a kinder place for them than it was for me.” 

Grimshaw turned to the Wizengamot. “Any questions for Mr. Lupin?” 

It pained Sirius when, at long last, Remus walked past Gaunt to the doors of the chamber, his steps slow and sure and his head high. He slipped away after him as quietly as he could, Harry following. 

Sirius spotted Remus sitting on a bench just outside the doors, looking ashen, but with that familiar grim determination that said, “I will remain upright by sheer force of will, so help me God.” 

Sirius gave Harry a quick hug. “Thank you,” he said as he released him. “We’ll see you again as soon as we’re able. Give Ginny our love.” It was a kind dismissal, but Harry, though never the most perceptive lad, managed to take the hint. 

Sirius sat down next to Remus on the bench, but did not touch him. “Need to catch your breath?” he asked, businesslike. 

“No,” Remus answered immediately, and winced- the Veritaserum was still in effect. “I want to go home now.” 

“We’ve only got to get to the floo. I’ll get you there,” Sirius stood, and Remus’ knees cracked arthritically as he followed. 

Sirius led him down the maze of corridors, up the lift, down through the lobby, past a wave of reporters and to the floo. He let Remus go in first, repeated the instructions for flooing home like he was guiding a child, acutely aware of the prickly reality of Remus’ pride. Still, Remus left the Ministry poised and refusing to give the media any distracting fodder. 

As soon as Sirius followed through the fireplace, he shut off the floo in his flat and approached Remus, who was standing blankly in the center of the floor. 

“You’re safe now,” Sirius said cautiously. “It’s over.” 

Remus nodded absently. 

Sirius listed the soothing litany of the wards he’d placed on his flat until Remus’ gaze finally fell on him. 

Sirius sat on the couch, and Remus followed his lead. Sirius pulled a blanket from the back of the couch, and fussily draped it over Remus, not quite touching him. 

“Do you want tea?” Sirius asked, and Remus shook his head. 

“I feel nauseous,” Remus said, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. “I feel very strange. I don’t like the Veritaserum.” 

“No,” Sirius agreed, though he knew the Veritaserum had not affected him this way, but far be it for Sirius to imply Remus had any kind of trauma reactions. “It should wear off soon.” 

Remus looked at Sirius for a long moment, then shuffled closer. Sirius wrapped an arm around him, and Remus untucked the blanket to wrap around them both.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Remus said, inching ever closer to Sirius’ warmth. He was shaking the way he had when he’d first come back all those months ago, but Sirius did not think it was from the cold. 

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” Sirius said, giving Remus’ waist a squeeze. “Do you want me to go through the wards again?” 

“Yes.”

Sirius murmured a list of wards until Remus sighed and rested his head on his shoulder. They ate takeout for a week. They spent hours naked in bed, touching each other, lazily initiating sex, sleeping holding on to each other. 

When they resurfaced, it was to find Gaunt had been convicted on charges of torture and murder. The Daily Prophet ran a front page article on the availability of Wolfsbane, which included several quotes from the young adults who had first contacted Remus about the trial. 

Remus let them take up the fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went off descriptions of the registry that I read in fic. I know nothing about legal things or courts, and did not care to do the research tbqh. Oh well.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ah, I forgot to give you the epilogue. so sorry. here it is. hooray found family!

Sirius came to consciousness slowly, with the grey light of the early morning just filtering through the rain tapping at the window. He shifted, stretching, and Remus made a noise beside him. 

Remus hadn't yet opened his eyes, but shifted toward Sirius just enough to wrap an arm around his waist and slot a thigh between his legs. Sirius listened to the rain and breathed in the smell of Remus' hair, the fine strands tickling his nose with each inhale. 

Remus sighed against his neck, and shifted his thigh up further to press against Sirius' morning erection. Sirius flexed his hips to show his appreciation, and Remus slid sleep-warm fingers over his stomach to dip beneath the waistband of his boxers. 

Sirius languished in the sensation for a moment, how good it felt to have Remus pressed up against him, his body heavy with relaxation, his hand moving down his cock, his soft breaths making the skin on Sirius' neck tingle. He reached out to touch Remus, hand sliding over his hip, thumb tracing along the bone that had begun to retreat softly into the fat surrounding it. He cupped the velvety skin of Remus' cock in his palm, and smiled when Remus pressed a lazy kiss to his neck. 

They came just like that, unhurried, barely-there movements in the warmth shared between them, Remus' hand on Sirius' waist too relaxed to grip as he drew in a deep breath and huffed out a sigh. Sirius could feel their bodies going heavy again, boneless warmth and pleasure making it easy to slip back into sleep, when the room filled with a shimmering blue light. Remus' eyes snapped open, and followed Sirius' to the shining stag that had entered the bedroom. 

"Harry," they said simultaneously, all vestiges of sleep shaken in an instant.

The stag's mouth opened, and Harry's voice issued forth, high and anxious. "Ginny in labor. Meet at Mungos."

"Ah," Sirius had already left the bed, and was hopping into a pair of black trousers. "Children wait for no man."

"Or woman," Remus slipped a thick cardigan over his shoulders, plucking his wand from the nightstand. "You ought to let Harry know we got his message."

Sirius gave the wand in Remus' hand a pointed look. "Can't seem to find mine." 

"Of course," Remus said, but his lips moved with the spell, and moments later a dazzling blue wolf lit the small, grey room. It sat and looked up at Remus with large, solemn eyes.

Remus watched the wolf for a moment with warring expressions, then extended a hand as it leant forward to press its nose to Remus' palm. "Tell Harry we're on our way," he said softly, and the form turned and bounded away.

It took a bit of arguing to make it through the labyrinth of Mungos to the delivery ward, but between Sirius' legal blustering and Remus' diplomacy they managed.

Ginny was already holding the baby swaddled in a blanket, her hair damp against her forehead, much to Sirius' shock.

Molly, who was at her bedside with Harry, smiled when she saw them. "Quickest delivery I've ever seen!" she announced. "This one didn't want to wait."

"I'm not complaining," Ginny huffed, straightening to stretch her legs. "Better excruciating and quick, than excruciating and long."

Harry nodded, looking a bit shell-shocked. Sirius went to stand by his side, and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Yep. Took Lily about a day of labor to have you. Thought she was going to kill James."

"Never saw him so panicked," Remus smiled. "He just kept trying to give her water, till she took the cup and tossed it at him."

"Remus," Ginny pushed herself up, baby still in her arms. "We meant to ask you- we'd decided on Albus Remus before you came back. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh," Remus looked from her to Sirius, lost. "No, I..."

"He's honored," Sirius finished. 

"Come on in," Molly ushered them. " Arthur's just gone to get everyone some coffee. Remus, dear, why don't you sit here," she pulled out a chair at Ginny's bedside.

"Would you like to hold him?" Ginny asked, leaning towards Remus, who nodded mutely, not taking his eyes away from the bundle in her arms. "Just hold his head," Ginny instructed Remus as he gently took the baby in his arms.

He still had the automatic motion down, even all these years later, of carefully cradling a baby in his arms. He looked up at Harry, then back at Ginny, expression unreadable. 

Sirius remembered a family Christmas party at the Lupin's decades ago, when one of his relative's newborns had been passed to everyone but Remus, who had the baby scooped from his arms by a mother whose eyes had gone tight with fear. Sirius had been angry, but Remus had brushed it off, saying he understood. And that was before they'd figured out he was queer, in addition to his furry little problem.

"Alright?" Sirius asked softly, while Remus rocked the baby to sleep in his arms and Ginny took the opportunity to touch her toes. 

Remus nodded. "Albus Remus," he said wonderingly, and the baby grasped one of his fingers with such singleminded strength that it made him laugh. 

"Coffee," Arthur announced, and the family huddled around the bedside, tiredness forgotten with the promise of this new life between them.


End file.
